U.C  BERKELEY  LIBRARY 


P  Li 
1837 
M 
1922 


UC-NRLF 


$B    364    433 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 


Francis  J.  CarmoJ^dy 


■      L1 


LITTLE  BLUE  BOOK  NO.  134 
Edited  by  E.  Haldeman-Julius 


The  Misanthrope 

MOLIERE 


HALDEMAN-JULIUS  COMPANY 
GlRARD,  KANSAS 


TEN  CENT  POCKET  SERIES  NO.  134 

Edited  by  E.  Haldeman -Julius 


The  Misanthrope 

Comedy  in  Five  Acts 

Moliere  f  se<x*\  fc<xpVi<?Ve 
PoqueliA  ,  itaa  -lVt-3 „ 


HALDEMAN-JULIUS  COMPANY 
GIRARD,  KANSAS 


Copyright,  1922, 
Haldeman-Julius    Company 


Personages 
Alceste,    Lover    of    Celimena 
Philinte,  Friend  of  Alceste. 
Oronte,  Lover  of  Celimene. 
Celimene,  a  young  widow. 
Eliante,   Cousin  of  Celimene. 
Arsinoe,  friend  of  Celimene. 
Acaste         ) 
Clitrandre  j  Marquises. 
Basque,  footman  to  Celimene. 
Soldier,  of  the  Marshals'  Guard. 
Dubois,   valet   to   Alceste. 

THE  SCENE  IS  IN  PAEIS  AT  THE  HOUSE  OF  CELIMENE 


THE  MISANTHROPE 
ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. 

Philinte.  What  is  the  matter?  What  troubles 
you,  Alceste? 

Alceste   (seated).  Leave  me,  I  beg  of  you. 

Philinte.     But  still,  tell  me,  what  whim — 

Alceste.  Leave  me,  I  say;  take  yourself  out 
of  sight. 

Philinte.  But  at  least  you  might  listen  to  a 
man  without  being  angry. 

Alceste.  I  choose  to  be  angry,  and  I  do  not 
choose  to  listen. 

Philinte.  I  cannot  understand  you  when  your 
temper  is  hot;   and  though  we  are  friends,  I — 

Alceste.  Friends!  I  your  friend?  Strike  my 
name  off  your  list.  Till  now.  I  have  professed  to 
be  your  friend;  but  after  wrlat  I  have  just  seen 
of  you,  I  tell  you  bluntly  I  am  no  longer.  I 
will  hold  no  place  in  a  corrupted  heart. 

Philinte.  Then,  am  I  guilty  in  your  eyes,  Al- 
ceste? 

Alceste.  You  ought  to  die  of  shame;  such  con- 
duct cannot  be  excused;  all  men  of  honor  must 
feel  humiliated  by  it.  I  see  you  overwhelming 
a  stranger  with  attentions;  testifying  the  utmost 
ardor  for  him;  making  protestations,  offers  of 
service,  vows;  and  when  I  ask  you  afterward 
who  he  is,  you  can  hardly  tell  me  the  man's 
name!     Your  ardor  for  him  sinks  the  moment 


■'. 


4  THE  MISANTHROPE 

!?a,L??u  leave  ninl-  and  you  inform  me  he 
is  nothing  to  yon.  Good  God!  it  is  a  shameful 
thing,  base,  infamous,  thus  to  degrade  your  soul 
by  treachery;  if  I,  through  some  misfortune 
had  done  as  much  I  would  go  hang  myself  in 
sheer  remorse.  m^&en  m 

PMinte  I  cannot  see,  for  my  part,  that 
mine's  a  hanging  case;  so  I  make  bold  to  ap- 
peal against  your  sentence  and  beg  you  not 
to  hang  me,  if  it  please  you. 

Alceste.    Jesting  is  most  unseemly 

have  me'do?Seri°USly'  then'  What  ™uld  *** 
»/«fc  ™™  \  Tuld  have  you  be  sincere,  and, 
from  "our  heart°n0r'  ""  D°  W°rd  that  *s  n* 
Philinte.  But  when  a  man  comes  up  to  you 
and  ?aluies  you  joyfully,  surely  you  must  pay 
him  in    he  self-same  coin,  make  some  response 

yow1SforVvoweS'  retUrn  hlm  °ffer  fOT.o«era 
Alceste.  No,— I  cannot  endure  that  abiect 
custom  which  the  majority  of  your worldly 
friends  affect.  I  hate  nothing  so  much  as  the 
n™tln=f  f-Dd  scraPinS  of  those  great  makers  of 
protestations,  those  affable  givers  of  trumpery 
kisses  those  obliging  praters  of  empty  words 
who  strive  to  outdo  each  other  with  civilities 
and  treat  an  honest  man  and  a  seoundre  lwUh 
e™^  ™*  nianner.  What  advantage 
It  ".  1°.  you.  lf  a  man  courts  you,  swears 
friendship   faith,  zeal,  honor,  tenderness  makes 

ro°undTn%h,iIS?mef  ^Pyment,  and  then™™ 
round  to  the  first  rascal  whom  he  meets    and 

waenfihnenSalne?    No'  no>  a  well-condiKd  soul 
wants  no  esteem  so  prostituted;  the  finest  hos- 

?ited  witfth  Va'UeI5SS  ^hen  we  «nd  ourselves 
rated  with  the  crowd.    Esteem  is  based  on  pref- 


THE  MISANTHROPE  5 

erence;  to  esteem  the  whole  world  alike  is 
to  feel  no  esteem  for  any  one.  And  because 
you  addict  yourself  to  these  vices  of  the  time, 
mor'bleu!  you  are  not  of  my  kind.  I  refuse  the 
vast  complaisance  of  a  heart  that  sees  no  shades 
of  merit;  I  choose  that  mine  shall  be  dis- 
tinguished, and — to  cut  the  matter  short — the 
friend  of  the  whole  human  race  is  not  to 
my  liking. 

Philinte.  But  so  long  as  we  live  in  social 
life,  we  must  pay  the  outward  civilities  that 
custom  demands. 

^Alceste.  No,  I  tell  you,  no;  we  ought  to 
chastise,  pitilessly,  this  shameful  interchange 
of  make-believe  friendship.  I  want  a  man  to 
be  a  man,  and  let  the  bottom  of  his  heart  be 
seen  in  all  he  says,  and  in  all  he  does.  Let  it 
be  himself  who  speaks, — not  masking  his  real 
feelings  behind   false  compliments. 

Philinte.  There  are  many  situations  in 
which  plain  frankness  would  become  ridiculous, 
and  is  not  permissible;  and  sometimes — if  it 
please  your  lofty  honor — it  may  be  well  to  hide 
what  is  in  our  hearts.  Would  it  be  fitting, 
would  it  be  decent  to  tell  all  men  what  we 
think  of  them?  And  if  there  be  any  one  whom 
we  dislike  or  think  unpleasant  ought  we  to 
let  him  know  it? 

Alceste.  Yes.  Philinte.  What!  would  you 
tell  old  Emilie  that  't  is  unbecoming  at  her 
age  to  play  the  pretty  girl;  or  that  the  paint 
she  wears  shocks  every  one? 

Alceste.  Undoubtedly.  Philinte.  Would  you 
tell  Dorilas  that  he  is  tiresome;  that  there  is 
not  an  ear  at  court  he  does  not  weary  with 
tales  of  his  own  bravery  and  the  glory  of  his 
race? 

Alceste.    I  should.    Philinte.    You  are  joking. 


6  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Alceste.  I  am  not  joking.  In  future  I  will 
spare  none.  My  eyes  are  too  offended.  Court 
and  society  both  show  me  nought  but  things 
that  stir  my  bile.  When  I  see  men  living  to- 
gether as  they  do  a  black  spleen  seizes  me,  a 
bitter  grief.  Everywhere  I  find  base  flattery 
injustice,  self-interest,  treachery,  deceit  I 
cannot  bear  it  longer;  I  am  enraged;  and  my 
intention  is  to  tell  the  truth  henceforth,  to  all 
the  human  race. 

Philinte.  Your  philosophic  wrath  is  some- 
what savage;  I  laugh  at  that  black  spleen  I 
see  has  gripped  you  You  and  I  are  like  the 
brothers  in  the  "School  for  Husbands,"  brought 
up  as  one,  and  yet— 

Alceste.  Good  God!  give  up  those  dull  com- 
parisons. 

Philinte.  Give  up  yourself  this  churlish 
virulence.  Your  teachings  cannot  change  the 
world.  Since  frankness  charms  you,  I  will  tell 
you  bluntly  this  disease  of  yours  is  laughed  at 
everywhere  you  go.  Such  wrath  against  the 
ways  of  the  world  makes  you  ridiculous  in  the 
eyes  of  many." 

Alceste.  So  much  the  better;  good  heavens* 
so  much  the  better;  that  is  what  I  want;  to  me 
t  is  the  best  of  signs  and  a  great  satisfaction. 
Men  have  become  so  odious  to  me  that  I'd  be 
grieved  indeed  to  be  well  thought  of  by  them 

Philmte.  Then  you  attribute  nought  but  evil 
to  human  nature? 

Alceste.  I  do;  I  hate  it  with  a  dreadful 
hatred. 

Philinte.  All  poor  mortals,  then,  without 
exception,  are  included  in  this  deep  aversion? 
Surely  there  may  be,  in  our  present  age— 

Alceste.  No,  it  is  universal;  I  hate  all  men: 
some  because  they  are  wicked  and  evil-doers; 


THE  MISANTHROPE  7 

others  because  they  fawn  upon  the  wicked,  and 
dare  not  show  that  vigorous  hatred  which  vir- 
tuous souls  should  feel  to  vice.  From  such 
compliance  comes  immunity  for  the  bare-faced 
villain  whom  I  now  am  suing.  Behind  his 
mask  the  knave  is  seen,  wherever  he  is  known, 
for  what  he  is;  the  rolling  of  his  eye,  his 
bated  voice,  impose  on  none  but  those  who  do 
not  live  here.  All  others  know  about  the 
sneaking  fellow,  fit  only  to  be  shunned,  has 
by  the  foulest  actions  foisted  himself  upon  so- 
ciety, where  his  career,  by  their  connivance 
clothed  in  splendor,  makes  merit  groan  and 
virtue  blush.  No  cries  of  "shame"  can  make 
his  miserable  honor  hear  them.  Call  him  a 
knave,  a  scoundrel,  a  damned  villain,  all  the 
world  agrees,  and  no  man  contradicts  you;  but 
— he  is  welcomed  everywhere;  wherever  he  may 
worm  himself  he's  greeted;  men  smile  upon 
him;  and  if  there's  a  canvass  to  be  made,  a 
place  to  be  intrigued  for,  you  will  see  him 
get  the  better  of  honest  men.  Great  God!  it 
is  to  me  a  mortal  wound  to  see  how  vice  is 
thus  condoned  and  trafficked  with.  At  times 
the  impulse  seizes  me  to  flee  to  a  desert  and 
renounce  my  kind. 

Philinte.  Good  heavens!  why  take  the  cus- 
toms of  our  time  so  hard;  why  be  so  little 
merciful  to  human  nature?  Examine  it  less 
sternly,  and  see  its  failures  with  some  gentle- 
ness. In  social  life  we  need  a  pliant  virtue; 
severe  integrity  is  often  blamable;  sound  rea- 
son shuns  extremes,  and  teaches  wisdom  with 
sobriety.  The  rigid  virtue  of  the  olden  time 
jars  with  our  age  and  with  our  modern  cus- 
toms: We  must  yield  somewhat  to  our  time, 
and  not  reluctantly.  It  is  a  folly,  second  to 
no  other,  to  meddle  with  the  world  and  try  to 


8  THE  MISANTHROPE 

mend  it.  I  see,  as  you  do,  fifty  things  a  day 
which  might  be  better,  or  take  other  courses. 
At  every  step  I'm  tempted  to  break  forth,  like 
you,  but  no  one  sees  me  do  it.  I  take  men 
gently  just  for . what  they  are;  I've  trained  my 
soul  to  tolerate  what  they  do.  At  court  and 
in  society  I  think  my  phlegm,  Alceste,  is,  to 
the  full,  as  philosophic  as  your  bile. 

Alceste.  But  that  phlegm,  Philinte,  which 
reasons  well,  is  it  incapable  of  indignation? 
Suppose,  perchance,  a  friend  betrayed  you,  or 
frauds  were  planned  to  steal  your  property,  or 
wicked  rumors  spread  to  injure  you, — could 
you  endure  all  that  and  not  be  angry? 

Philinte.  Yes.  I  regard  those  evils,  that  your 
soul  resents,  as  vices  consequent  to  human  na- 
ture; my  soul  is  not  more  shocked  by  seeing 
men  unjust,  dishonest,  selfish,  than  by  the 
sight  of  vultures  hungering  after  carnage,  or 
thieving  monkeys   or  infuriate  wolves. 

Alceste.  I'll  see  myself  betrayed,  hacked  into 
pieces,  robbed,  before  I'll—  Good  God!  why 
talk?  such  reasoning  is  sheer  sophistry. 

Philinte.  Faith!  I  advise  you  to  keep  silence; 
don't  rage  against  your  kind  so  much,  and  give 
more  care  to  the  lawsuit  which  you  have  upon 
your  hands. 

Alceste.  I  shall  give  none;  that  I'm  de- 
termined on. 

Philinte.  Then  who  do  you  expect  will  plead 
your  case? 

Alceste.  Plead  it?  why,  reason,  my  good 
right,  and  equity. 

Philinte.  Do  you  mean  you  will  not  go  to 
see  a  single  judge? 

Alceste.  Not  one.  My  cause  is  neither 
doubtful  nor  unjust. 


THE   MISANTHROPE  9 

Philinte.  Agreed;  but  underhand  intrigues 
are  most  disastrous,  and — 

Alceste.  No;  I'm  resolved  to  take  no  steps. 
Either  I  am  wrong,  or  I  am  right. 

Philinte.    Don't  trust  to  that. 

Alceste.    I  shall  not  stir  a  finger. 

Philinte.  Your  enemy  is  strong,  and  may,  by 
making  a  cabal,  bear  off — 

Alceste.     I  care  nought  for  that. 

Philinte.     Then  you  are  wrong. 

Alceste.  So  be  it.  I  wish  to  see  him^win 
the  case. 

Philinte.     But— 

Alceste.  I  shall  have  pleasure  if  I  lose  my 
suit. 

Philinte.     But  surely — ■ 

Alceste.  I  shall  see  in  court  if  men  will  have 
the  effrontery — will  be  wicked,  scoundrelly, 
perverse  enough — to  do  me  injustice  openly  be- 
fore the  world. 

Philinte.     Oh,  what  a  man! 

Alceste.  I  would  gladly  lose  my  cause,  did 
it  cost  me  half  my  fortune,  to  prove  that  fact. 

Philinte.  The  world  would  laugh  at  you  in 
bitter  earnest  if  it  could  hear  you  talk  in  this 
way. 

Alceste.  So  much  the  worse  for  him  who 
laughs. 

Philinte.  But  this  integrity  you  ask  from 
every  one,  this  honest  and  straightforward 
dealing  in  which  you  hug  yourself,  do  you  find 
it  here  in  her  you  love?  It  does  surprise  me 
that  having  quarrelled  with  the  human  race  so 
bitterly,  you  have  been  caught,  in  spite  of  much 
you  might  indeed  think  odious,  but  that  which 
charms  the  eye.  But  what  surprises  me  still 
more,  is  the  strange  choice  to  which  your  heart 
is  pledged.     Eliante,  sincere  and  truthful,  has 


10  THE  MISANTHROPE 

a  liking  for  you;  Arsinoe,  the  prude,  looks  soft- 
ly at  you  with  a  melting  eye;  and  yet  your  soul 
rejects  their  love  and  makes  itself  a  toy  for 
Selimene,  whose  coquetry  and  treacherous  wit 
symbol  the  morals  of  the  present  day.  How 
comes  it  that,  hating  as  you  do  our  social 
foibles,  you  can  endure  the  ways  of  that  fair 
lady?  Does  all  you  hate  cease  to  be  evil  in  so 
sweet  a  form?  or — do  you  choose  excuse  it? 

Alceste.  No;  the  love  I  feel  for  that  young 
widow  in  no  way  blinds  me  to  her  great  de- 
fects* I  am,  in  spite  of  the  passion  she  in- 
spires in  me,  the  first  to  see  them  and  the 
first  to  blame.  But  with  it  all,  in  spite,  too, 
of  my  will,  she  has — I  own  my  weakness— the 
art  of  pleasing  me.  In  vain  I  see  her  faults; 
in  vain  I  blame  her;  in  spite  of  all,  she  makes 
me  love  her.  Her  grace,  her  charm,  are 
stronger  than  all  else.  Doubtless,  my  love  will 
purge  her  soul  of  worldly  vices  in  the  course 
of    time. 

Philinte.  If  you  do  that  you  will  have  done 
great  things.     Then  you  think  she  loves  you? 

Alceste.  Yes,  by  heaven!  I  could  not  love 
her  did  she  not  love  me. 

Philinte.  But  if  her  love  for  you  is  so  ap- 
parent why  do  you  fret  yourself  about  your 
rivals?  ,  ,     ■ 

Alceste.  Because  a  heart  which  deeply  loves 
needs  that  the  object  of  that  love  be  all  its  own; 
and  I  have  come  here  now  to  tell  her,  as  to 
that,  all  that  my  passion  urges  me  to  say. 

Philinte.  For  my  part,  if  't  were  granted  me 
to  form  a  wish,  her  cousin  Eliante  would  have 
my  longings.  Eliante's  heart,  which  cares  for 
yours,  is  steadfast  and  sincere;  had  your  choice 
fallen  there  it  would  have  been  in  keeping  with 
your  needs. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  11 

Alceste.  True;  my  reason  daily  tells  me  so; 
but  't  is  not  reason  that  rules  love. 

Philinte.  I  greatly  fear  your  passion  and 
your  hopes  may — 

SCENE  II. 

ORONTE,    PHILINTE,    ALCESTE. 

Oronte,  to  Alceste.  They  told  me  below  that 
Celimene  and  Eliante  had  gone  out  shopping; 
but  as  they  also  said  that  you  were  here,  I 
have  come  up  to  tell  you  from  an  honest  heart 
how  great  an  admiration  I've  conceived  for 
you,  and  that  I  long  have  had  an  ardent  wish 
to  be  among  your  friends.  Yes,  my  heart  revels 
in  doing  justice  to  great  merit;  and  I  eagerly 
desire  some  bond  of  friendship  to  unite  us.  A 
warm  friend  of  my  quality  is  not,  I  think,  to 
be  rejected.  [During'  Oronte's  harangue  Alceste 
is  dreamy  and  seems  not  to  notice  he  is  oeing 
spoken  to.  He  does  not  come  out  of  his  revery 
till  Oronte  says:~\  It  is  to  you,  if  you  please, 
that  my  words  are  addressed. 

Alceste.     To  me,  monsieur? 

Oronte.  To  you.  Do  you  find  them  displeas- 
ing? 

Alceste.  Not  at  all.  But  my  surprise  is 
great,  for  I  did  not  expect  the  honor  I  receive. 

Oronte.  You  need  feel  no  surprise  at  the  es- 
teem in  which  I  hold  you,  since  that  of  the 
whole  universe  is  yours. 

Alceste.     Monsieur — 

Oronte.  The  State  has  no  reward  that  is  not 
far  beneath  the  dazzling  merit  all  men  see  in 
you. 

Alceste.    Monsieur — 

Oronte.  Yes;  for  my  part,  I  hold  you  pre- 
ferable to  all  I  see  that  is  most  eminent. 

Alceste.    Monsieur — 


12  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Oronte.  May  the  heavens  crush  me  if  my 
words  are  false.  To  prove  my  feelings,  suffer 
me  to  embrace  you  with  an  open  heart — ask- 
ing, as  I  do  so,  a  place  in  your  regard.  Give 
me  your  hand,  if  it  please  you.  You  promise 
me,   do  you  not,   your  friendship? 

Alceste.    Monsieur — 

Oronte.    What!    you   refuse? 

Alceste.  Monsieur,  the  honor  you  propose 
to  me  is  great.  But  friendship  asks  more  mys- 
tery; and  it  is,  assuredly,  a  profanation  of  that 
name  to  seek  to  use  it  upon  all  occasions.  Such 
union  is  born  of  knowledge  and  of  choice;  we 
should  know  each  other  better  before  we  bind 
ourselves;  for  each  might  have  -such  disposi- 
tions that  both  would  soon  repent  of  our  rash 
bargain. 

Oronte.  Ah!  there  indeed  you  speak  with 
judgment,  and  my  esteem  for  you  is  all  the 
greater.  Let  us  leave  time  to  knot  these  gentle 
bonds.  Meantime,  I  place  myself  at  your  dis- 
posal. If  you  have  any  overtures  to  make  at 
court,  command  me;  for  it  is  known  I  have 
some  favor  with  the  king;  he  listens  to  me; 
and,  upon  my  word,  in  every  way  he  treats  me 
most  considerately.  In  short,  I  am  yours,  to 
use  as  you  may  wish;  and,  as  your  mind  is 
known  to  be  so  brilliant,  I  have  come — in  order 
to  begin  the  tie  between  us — to  read  to  you 
a  sonnet  I  have  lately  written,  and  ask  you  if 
't  were  well  to  offer  it  to  the  public. 

Alceste.  Monsieur,  I  am  most  unfit  to  settle 
such  a  question.     I  beg  you  to  excuse  me. 

Oronte.    Excuse  you!   why? 

Alceste.  I  have  the  defect  of  being  more 
sincere  than  persons  wish. 

Oronte.  But  that  is  what  I  want.  I  should 
have   reason  to   complain    if,  trusting  to  your 


THE  MISANTHROPE  13 

sincerity  to  speak  without  disguise,  you  should 
deceive  me. 

Alceste.    If  that  is  how  you  take  it,  monsieur, 
I  am  willing. 

Oronte.    Sonnet —    It  is  a  sonnet,  monsieur. 
To  Hope — in  fact,  to  a  lady  who  has  granted 
some   hope    to    my   passion.      To   Hope —    The 
lines  are  not  grand,  pompous  poesy,  but  simple 
verses,  tender,  sweet  and  languishing. 
Alceste.    We  shall  see,  monsieur. 
Oronte.     To  Hope —    I  know  not  whether  the 
style  will   seem   to  you   sufficiently   clear  and 
easy,    and    whether   my   choice    of    words   will 
satisfy  you. 
Alceste.    We   shall  see,   monsieur. 
Oronte.     I   ought,   perhaps,   to    tell   you   that 
I  was  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour   in   writing 
them. 

Alceste.    Go  on,  monsieur;  the  time  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it. 
Oronte,    reading. 

'T  is  true  that  hope  doth  comfort  bring, 
And  it  rocks  a  time  our  sorrow; 
But,  Phillis,  't  is  a  sadder  thing 
If  we  leave  not  on  the  morrow. 
Philintc.     I    am    charmed    already   with    the 
little  poem. 

Alceste   (low  to  Philinte).    What!  have  you 
the  face  to  call  that  fine? 
Oronte,  reading. 
Your  complaisance  methinks  is  lost; 
You  ought  to  keep  your  favors  low, 
And  not  yourself  put  to  such  cost, 
If  hope  is  all 'you  deign  bestow. 
Philinte.     Ah!      with     what     gallantry     that 
phrase  is  turned. 

Alceste  (low  to  Philinte).    Good  heavens!  vile 
flatterer,  you  are  praising  nonsense. 


14  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Oronte,  reading. 
If  hope  eternally  delayed, 
Quenches  my  ardor  thus  betrayed, 
Death  can  alone  my  succor  be. 

Your  smiles  can  nothing  then  repair, 
Pair  Phillis,  it  is  all  despair 
When  we  must  hope  eternally. 

Philinte.  The  cadence  of  that  last  line  is 
charming,  amorous,  admirable. 

Alceste  (aside).  Damn  his  cadence!  The 
devil!  't  is,  poisonous;  I  would  the  words  might 
choke  him. 

Philinte.  I  have  never  heard  verses  better 
turned. 

Alceste  (aside).    Good  God! 

Oronte  (to  Philinte).  You  flatter  me;  perhaps 
you  think — 

Philinte.     I  never  flatter. 

Alceste  (aside).  Ah,  traitor!  what  are  you 
doing  now? 

Oronte  (to  Alceste).  But  you?  Remember 
the  terms  of  our  treaty;  speak  to  me,  I  entreat 
you  in  all  sincerity. 

Alceste.  Monsieur,  this  matter  is  always 
delicate.  We  like  to  be  flattered  on  our  wit 
and  wisdom.  I  said  one  day  to  a  man  whose 
name  I  will  not  mention,  on  hearing  certain 
verses  he  had  written,  that  it  behooved  a  gallant 
man  to  restrain  the  lust  of  scribbling  which 
seizes  on  us  all,  and  put  a  curb  upon  his  pasr 
sion  for  notoriety  through  such  amusements; 
and  I  also  told  him  that  by  his  eagerness  to 
show  his  work  to  others  he  laid  himself  open 
to  the'  jeers  of  malice. 

Oronte.  Do  you  mean  by  that  to  tell  me  I 
am  wrong  in  wishing 

Alceste.  I  do  not  say  so.  I  warned  him 
that  cold  criticism  crushed;  that  for  this  weak- 


THE  MISANTHROPE  15 

ness  men  were  much  decried;  that  they  might 
have  a  hundred  noble  qualities,  but  the  world 
would  judge  them  only  by  their  foibles. 

Oronte.  You  think,  that,  that  my  sonnet  is 
amiss? 

Alceste.  I  do  not  say  so.  I  showed  him,  to 
stop  his  writing,  how,  in  our  day,  this  lust  of 
scribbling  has   spoiled  most  worthy  men. 

Oronte.  Do  I  write  badly,  and  resemble 
them? 

Alceste.  I  do  not  say  so.  Finally  I  said: 
"What  pressing  need  have  you  to  make  these 
rhymes?  What  devil  drives  you  into  print? 
If  the  issue  of  a  wretched  book  is  ever  pardon- 
able it  is  when  some  poor  luckless  fellow  has 
written  it  for  bread.  Believe  me,  resist  your 
temptations;  deprive  the  public  of  your  labors. 
Don't  sacrifice — no  matter  who  may  urge  it — 
.the  name  you  bear  at  court  as  a  most  worthy 
man  to  take  from  grasping  printers  the  repute 
of  a  ridiculous  and  miserable  author/'  That  is 
what  I  endeavored  to  make  him  understand. 

Oronte.  This  is  all  very  well,  and  I  think  I 
understand  you.  But  may  I  not  know  what 
there  is  in  my  sonnet 

Alceste.  Frankly,  it  is  good  for  nothing  but 
to  put  in  the  fire.  You  have  modelled  your- 
self on  the  worst  examples.  None  of  your  ex- 
pressions are  natural.  "Rocks  a  time" — what  is 
that?  "We  leave  not  on  the  morrow" — who 
leave?  "And  not  yourself  put  to  such  test" — 
what  a  phrase!  And  what  may  this  mean: 
"Phillis,  it  is  all  despair  when  we  must  hope 
eternally?"  This  figurative  style,  of  which  our 
present  writers  are  so  proud,  is  out  of  keeping 
with  sincerity  and  sound  writing.  'Tis  a  mere 
trick  of  words,  pure  affectation.  That  is  not 
the  way  in  which  nature  speaks.    The  shocking 


16  THE  MISANTHROPE 

taste  of  the  present  century  alarms  me;  coarse 
as  our  fathers  were,  their  taste  was  better. 
As  for  me,  I  care  far  less  for  the  finest  things 
of  the  day  than  for  this  old  song  I'll  now  repeat 

to  you: 

"If  the  king  had  given  to  me* 
His  great  town,  his  belle  Paris, 

Would  I  but  leave  my  sweet,  my  dear, 
My  dear  I  love  so  well; 
I  should  say  to  the  King  Henri, 
Take  back,  take  back  your  belle  Paris, 
I  love  my  love, 

O  gay! 
I  love  my  love  too  well." 
The  rhyme  is  not  rich,  and  the  style  is  old- 
fashioned;  but  do  you  not  see  how  much  better 
it  is  than  all  that  affectation  at  which  good 
sense  groans?  That's  what  the  heart  says  when 
it  really  loves  [To  Philinte,  who  is  laughing. ] 
Yes,  you  may  scoff;  but  in  spite  of  your  beaux 
esvrits,  I  think  more  of  that  song  than  of  all 
the  flowery  pomposity  and  false  brilliancy 
which  they  cry  up. 

Orcnte.  For  my  part,  I  insist  that  my  verses 
are  good. 

Alceste.  You  have  your  reasons  for  think- 
ing so,  and  you  must  allow  me  to  have  my 
reasons,  which  decline  to  submit  to  yours. 

Oronte.  'Tis  sufficient  for  me  to  know  that 
others  think  well  of  them. 

Alceste,  Others  have  the  art  of  feigning; 
I  have  not. 

Oronte.  Did  nature  allot  you  a  monopoly  of 
brains? 

Alceste.  Should  I  have  more  if  I  praised 
your  verses? 

Oronte.  I  can  do  very  well  without  your 
approval. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  17 

Alceste.  You  must,  if  you  please,  do  with- 
out it. 

Oronte.  I  would  like  to  see  you  compose,  in 
your  style,   a   sonnet  on  that  subject. 

Alceste.  I  might,  by  ill  luck,  make  sonnets 
as  bad;  but  I  should  take  good  care  that  no 
one  ever  saw  them. 

Oronte.  You  speak  very  curtly;  and  all  this 
assumption 

Alceste.  Go,  seek  elsewhere  the  incense  that 
you  want. 

Oronte.  Be  pleased,  my  little  monsieur,  to 
lower  your  tone. 

Alceste.  Faith!  my  grand  monsieur,  I  speak 
as  I  choose. 

Philinte  (placing  himself  between  them).  Mes- 
sieurs, hey!  messieurs;  this  is  going  too  far. 
Let  the  matter  drop,  I  beg  of  you. 

Oronte.  Yes,  I  am  wrong,  I  own  it,  and  I 
leave  the  house.  I  am  your  valet,  monsieur, 
and  with  all  my  heart. 

Alceste.    And  I  your  humble  servant. 


ACT  IT. 

SCENE  II. 

ALCESTE,    CELIMENE, 

Alceste.  Madame,  will  you  allow  me  to  speak 
frankly?  I  am  not  contented  with  your  ways 
of  action;  they  stir  such  bitterness  within  my 
breast  I  feel  't  were  better  we  should  break 
aparc.  Yes,  to  speak  otherwise  would  be  de- 
ceiving you.  Sooner  or  later,  inevitably,  the 
break  must  come.  Were  I  to  pledge  you  to 
the  contrary  a  thousand  times,  I  should  be 
unable  to  keep  my  promise. 


18  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Celimene.  Is  it  to  quarrel  with  me  that  you 
have  wished  to  bring  me  home? 

Alceste.  Quarrel,  no.  But  your  disposition 
is,  madame,  to  give  to  each  new-comer  access 
to  your  soul;  you  allow  too  many  lovers  to  be- 
set you,  and  my  heart  cannot  adapt  itself  to 
that. 

Celimene.  Then,  do  you  hold  me  guilty  be- 
cause men  love  me?  How  can  I  help  it  if  they 
think  me  lovable?  And  when  they  take  such 
pleasant  pains  to  see  me,  am  I  to  take  a  stick 
and  drive  them  forth? 

Alceste.  No,  it  is  not  a  stick  you  need, 
madame,  but  a  heart  less  facile  and  less  tender 
to  their  wishes.  I  know  your  charms  attend 
you  wLeresoe'er  you  go;  but  your  welcome 
holds  in  bonds  the  admirers  whom  your  eyes 
attract;  its  sweetness,  offered  to  all  who  pay 
you  homage,  completes  the  work  your  charms 
began.  The  smiling  hope  you  grant  them  fast- 
ens their  assiduities  upon  you;  but  if  you  made 
your  kindness  less  inclusive  this  mob  of  lovers 
would  be  put  to  flight.  Tell  me,  at  least,  why 
Clitandre  has  the  luck  to  please  you?  On 
what  foundation  of  worth  or  splendid  virtue  do 
you  base  the  regard  with  which  you  honor 
him?  Is  it  the  inordinate  length  of  his  little- 
finger  nail  that  wins  him  the  esteem  you  are 
seen  to  give  him?  Have  you  succumbed,  with 
all  the  fashionable  world,  to  the  dazzling  merit 
of  that  blond  periwig?  Are  the  fine  ruffles  at 
his  knees  the  reasons  that  you  like  him?  those 
knots  of  ribbon,  have  they  charmed  you?  Is 
it  the  allurement  of  his  mighty  breeches  which 
wins  your  soul  to  making  him  your  slave?  Or 
his  manner  of  laughing,  his  falsetto  voice,  have 
they  discovered  the  secret  power  of  touching 
you? 


THE  MISANTHROPE  19 

Celimene.  How  unjustly  you  take  umbrage 
at  Clitandre!  You  know  the  reason  why  I 
treat  him  kindly;  he  has  promised  to  interest 
all  his  friends  in  this  lawsuit  I  have  upon  my 
hands.  , 

Alceste.  Lose  your  suit  bravely,  madame, 
and  curry  no  favor  with  a  rival  I  dislike. 

Celimene.  But  you  are  growing  jealous  of 
the  universe! 

Alceste.  Because  you  welcome  the  whole 
universe  too  well. 

Celimene.  That  very  thing  should  soothe 
your  nettled  soul;  my  favors,  as  you  see,  are 
shed  on  all;  if  one  alone  received  them  you 
would  have  far  more  cause  to  take  offence. 

Alceste.  But  I  whom  you  reproach  for  too 
much  jealousy,  what  favors  have  I  more  than 
they,  if  I  may  ask? 

Celimene.  The  happiness  of  knowing  you 
are  loved. 

Alceste.  How  can  my  tortured  heart  believe 
it? 

Celimene.  I  think  that  having  taken  pains 
to  tell  you  so,  such  an  admission  ought  to 
satisfy  you. 

Alceste.  But  what  assurance  have  I  that  you 
are  not,  even  now,  saying  the  same  to  others? 

Celimene.  Certainly,  for  a  lover,  your  gal- 
lant speeches  are  too  pretty;  you  treat  me  with 
such  graceful  courtesy!  Well,  to  remove  that 
anxious  question  from  your  mind,  I  here  unsay 
all  that  I  said;  make  yourself  easy;  nothing 
can  now  deceive  you  but  yourself. 

Alceste.  Good  God!  why  must  I  love  you? 
If  I  could  snatch  my  heart  out  of  your  hands 
I  would  bless  heaven  for  such  rare  luck!  I 
do  not  deny  that  I  have  striven  with  all  my 
strength  to  tear  this  terrible  attachment  from 


20  THE  MISANTHROPE 

my  soul;  but  every  effort  fails;  it  must  be  for 
my  sins  I  love  you  so! 

Celimene.  Your  passion  for  me  is  indeed  un- 
equalled! 

Alceste.  Yes,  in  that  I  can  defy  the  world. 
My  love  is  not  to  be  conceived  of;  and  no  one, 
madame,  has  ever  loved  as  I  do. 

Celimene.  Your  method  of  doing  so  is  truly 
novel;  it  seems  you  love  a  woman  that  you 
may  quarrel  with  her;  your  ardor  blazes  forth 
in  angry  words;  and  sure  no  love  was  ever  yet 
so  scolding.  ,       x  «  ] 

Alceste.  It  rests  with  you  to  make  that 
anger  pass.  For  God's  sake,  madame,  let  us 
cut  short  these  bickerings,  speak  heart  to  heart 
and  put  a  stop — 

SCENE  II. 

CELIMENE,  ALCESTE,  BASQUE. 

Celimene.    "What  is  it? 
Basque.    Acaste  is  here. 
Celimene.    "Well,   show  him   up. 

SCENE  III. 

CELIMENE,    ALCESTE. 

Alceste.  What!  am  I  never  to  have  you  to 
myself?  Why  are  you  so  ready  to  receive  the 
world?  Can  you  not  endure  for  a  single  mo- 
ment of  your  day  to  deny  yourself  to  visitors? 

Celimene.  Do  you  wish  him  to  quarrel  with 
me? 

Alceste.  You  show  him  a  deference  that  I 
do  not  like.  _ 

Celimene.  He  is  a  man  who  would  never 
forgive  me  if  he  saw  that  I  considered  him  in- 
trusive. ,.  x 

Alceste.  Is  that  a  reason  for  disturbing  your- 
self? 


THE  MISANTHROPE  21 

Celimene.  Heavens,  yes!  good-will  is  of 
value  among  our  fellows.  He  belongs  to  a  set 
who,  I  scarcely  know  why,  have  acquired  at 
court  a  right  to  be  heard.  They  manage  to 
obtain  an  entrance  everywhere;  and  though,  't 
is  true,  they  may  not  serve  us,  they  are  able 
to  do  us  a  vast  deal  of  harm.  Therefore,  no 
matter  what  support  one  has  elsewhere,  we 
ought  never  to  quarrel  with  such  babbling 
persons. 

Alceste.  In  short,  whatever  happens  and 
whoever  comes,  you  find  good  reasons  to  see 
all  the  world;  and  these  precautions  about 
your  lawsuit 

SCENE  IV. 

ALCESTE,  CELIMENE,  BASQUE. 

Basque.     Clitandre  is  also  here,  madame. 
Alceste.    Precisely!      (Moves  as  if  to  go.) 
Celimene.    Where  are  you  going? 
Alceste.    To  leave  you. 

Celimene.  Very  good,  go;  leave  the  house; 
you  may  do  as  you  choose. 

SCENE  V. 

ELIANTE,  PHILINTE,  ACASTE,   CLITANDRE,  CELIMENE, 

BASQUE. 

Eliante  to  Celimene.  The  two  marquises 
are  coming  up.    Has  anyone  announced  them? 

Celimene.  Yes.  (To  Basque)  Place  chairs 
for  all.     (To  Alceste)     What!  you  did  not  go? 

Alceste.  No;  for  I  wish,  madame,  to  make 
you  speak  your  mind,  either  for  them  or  else 
for  me 

Celimene.    Hush,  be  silent 

Alceste.    Today    you    shall    explain   yourself. 

Celimene.    You  have  lost  your   senses. 


22  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Alceste.  Not  at  all.  You  shall  declare  your- 
self  

Clitandre.  Ah!  madame,  I  am  just  from  the 
Louvre,  where  Cleonte,  at  the  levee,  was  su- 
premely absurd.  Has  he  no  friend  who  would 
with  charitable  advice  enlighten  him  as  to  his 
manners? 

Celimene.  He  is  indeed  a  bungler  in  society; 
he  makes  himself  conspicuous  wherever  he  may 
be;  and  when  one  sees  him  after  a  slight  in- 
terval he  seems  to  be  more  ridiculous  than 
ever  . 

Acaste.  Talk  of  ridiculous  people!  i'  faith, 
I've  just  been  undergoing  one  of  the  most 
tiresome,— Damon,  the  moralizer,  who,  if  you  11 
believe  me,  kept  me  one  whole  hour  out  of  my 
chair,  standing  in  the  hot  sun. 

Celimene.  Yes  he  's  a  wonderful  talker,  who 
has  the  art  of  telling  you  nothing  in  a^ great 
harangue.  There  's  never  any  point  to  what  ne 
says;   't  is  only  noise  to  which  we  listen. 

Eliante,  to  Philinte.  This  beginning  is 
cheerful;  the  conversation  is  starting  at  good 
speed  against  our  neighbors. 

Clitandre.  But  there  's  Timante,  madame; 
he  is  rather  a  good  fellow. 

Celimene.  Ah!  he  's  a  man  of  mystery  from 
head  to  foot;  he  flings  you,  as  he  passes,  a 
haggard  glance,  because,  without  a  thing  to  do, 
he  is  always  busy.  His  speeches  are  too  lull 
of  flourishes;  he  pesters  one  to  death  by  dint 
of  mannerism.  He  always  has  some  secret  to 
whisper  in  one's  ear,  breaking  up  a  conver- 
sation,—and  the  secret  is  invariably  nothing. 
Out  of  the  merest  trifle  he  makes  a  mystery; 
and  even  his  good-byes,  he  whispers  them. 
Acaste.    And    Geralde,  madame? 


THE   MISANTHROPE  23 

Celimene.  Oh!  that  wearisome  chatterer! 
when  will  he  cease  to  play  the  grand  seigneur? 
He  mingles  only  with  the  shining  lights,  and 
quotes  his  dukes,  his  princes  and  princesses. 
The  quality  infatuates  him;  and  all  his  talk 
is  now  of  horses,  equipages,  dogs.  He  calls  the 
personages  of  highest  rank  by  their  first 
names;  the  plain  word  "monsieur"  is  forgotten 
by  him. 

Clitandre.  They  say  he  is  on  the  closest 
terms  with  the  Bleise. 

Celimene.  That  poor  stupid  woman!  oh,  what 
dry  intercourse!  I  suffer  martyrdom  when  she 
comes  to  see  me;  I  perspire  with  the  effort  to 
find  something  to  say;  the  obtuseness  of  her 
expression  kills  the  words  on  my  lips.  In  vain 
I  assault  her  stupid  silence  with  all  the  common- 
places I  can  call  to  my  assistance, — fine  weath- 
er, rain,  heat,  cold.  But  those  are  topics  that 
are  soon  exhausted,  and  then  her  visit,  always 
intolerable,  drags  its  fearful  length  along.  In 
vain  I  look  to  see  what  time  it  is;  I  yawn  a 
score  of  times;  she  does  not  budge  more  than 
a  log  of  wood. 

Acaste.    What  do  you  think  of  Adraste? 

Celimene.  Ah!  what  excessive  pride!  He 
is  a  man  puffed  up  with  admiration  of  himself. 
His  sense  of  his  deserts  is  never  satisfied  at 
court,  and  so  he  rails  against  the  court,  and 
proceedings  daily.  There's  never  an  office, 
post,  or  privilege  given  but  what  he  thinks  he's 
treated  with  injustice. 

Clitandre.  But  that  young  Cleon,  at  whose 
house  all  our  best  people  now  are  visiting; 
wThat   do  you  say  of   him? 

Celimene.  Why,  that  he  makes  his  cook  his 
merit,  and  that  the  world  visits  his  dinners 
and  not  him. 


^4  THE  MISANTHROPE 

EUante.  But  he  takes  care  that  all  the 
choicest  things  are  served  there. 

Cclimene.  Yes;  but  I  wish  he  would  not 
serve  himself;  his  silly  person  is  a  horrid 
dish  which  spoils,  to  my  taste,  all  the  feasts  he 
gives. 

Philinte.-  The  world  at  any  rate  thinks 
highly  of  his  uncle,  Damis;  what  do  you  say  of 
him,  madame? 

Cclimene.    He  is  a  friend  of  mine. 

PhiUnte.  I  think  him  an  honest  man,  and 
he  looks  a  wise  one. 

Cclimene.  Yes,  but  he  pretends  to  too  much 
mind;  it  irritates  me.  He  is  always  straining; 
ir  what  he  says  you  see  him  in  travail  to  pro- 
duce tons  mots.  Since  he  took  it  into  his 
head  to  be  so  clever,  nothing  pleases  his  taste, 
he  is  too  fastidious.  He  sees  defects  in  every- 
thing that's  written;  he  thinks  a  wit  should 
never  praise;  he  counts  it  learned  to  find  fault; 
fools  only  can  admire  his  laugh.  By  approving 
nothing  in  the  works  of  the  day,  he  fancies  he 
exalts  himself  above  his  fellows.  Even  in  con- 
versation he  finds  something  to  reprove;  the 
topics  are  so  low  he  will  not  condescend  to 
them.  He  stands,  arms  folded,  and,  from  the 
pinnacle  of  his  mind,  looks  down  in  pity  upon 
what  we  say. 

Acaste.  God  bless  me!  that's  his  veritable 
portrait. 

Clitandre,  to  Celimene.  For  painting  people 
to  the  life,  you  are  incomparable. 

Alceste.  On,  on,  set  on  each  other,  my  good 
friends  at  court!  Spare  none,  let  each  man 
have  his  turn.  And  yet,  if  one  of  them  appears 
in  sight  you  haste  to  meet  him,  give  him  your 
hand,  offer  him  flattering  kisses,  and  swear  by 
all  the  oaths  to  be  his  servant. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  25 

Clitandre.  Why  find  fault  with  us?  If  what 
was  said  displeases  you,  address  your  reproaches 
to  madame. 

Alceste.  No,  by  heaven!  it  is  to  you  I  make 
them;  your  compliant  laughter  incites  her  wit 
to  these  ill-natured  speeches.  Her  satire  feeds 
upon  the  wicked  incense  of  your  flattery;  and 
if  she  did  not  see  herself  applauded  her  heart 
would  be  less  prone  to  ridicule.  'Tis  thus  that 
flatterers  are  guilty  of  the  vices  which  corrupt 
society. 

Philinte.  But  why  do  you  take  such  interest 
in  the  persons  thus  condemned,  since  you  your- 
self would  blame  in  them  the  selfsame  faults. 

Celimene.  Is  it  not  monsieur's  nature  to 
contradict?  Why  expect  him  to  agree  with  the 
general  voice,  or  to  refrain  from  exhibiting, 
wherever  he  may  be,  the  cavijling  spirit  he  re- 
ceived from  heaven?  The  opinion  of  others  is 
never  agreeable  to  him.  He  sets  up  his  own, 
believing  he  would  be  thought  a  common  man 
if  it  were  seen  to  agree  with  that  of  the  world. 
The  pleasure  of  contradicting  has  such  charms 
for  his  soul  that  he  sometimes,  and  not  seldom, 
takes  arms  against  himself,  and  wages  war 
upon  his  own  real  feelings  when  he  hears  them 
uttered  by  the  lips  of  others. 

Alceste.  The  laugh  is  on  your  side,  madame, 
and  there's  nothing  to  be  said.  You  can  wing 
your  shafts  of  satire  on  me  as  you  please. 

Philinte.  But  is  it  not  true  that  your  mind 
antagonizes  whatever  is  said,  and  is  unable, 
from  a  bitterness  you  avow  yourself,  to  endure 
that  others  should  either  blame  or  praise? 

Alceste.  Yes;  for  the  reason  that  men  are 
never  right.  My  bitterness  is  just;  I  find  them, 
wherever  they  may  be,  offensive  flatterers  or 
rash  censors. 

Celimene.     But 


26  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Alceste.  No,  madame,  no;  if  I  die  for  it,  I 
must  say  that  you  find  pleasure  in  things  I  can- 
not bear;  and  these  friends  here  do  wrong  to 
foster  in  your  soul  this  great  indulgence  of  de- 
fects that  injure  it. 

Clitandre.  For  myself  I  shall  say  nothing; 
but  as  for  madame,  I  must  openly  declare  that  I 
have  hitherto  believed  her  faultless. 

Acaste.  I  see  the  graces  and  the  attractions 
that  heaven  has  granted  her;  but  her  defects 
have  never,  I  must  say,  struck  my  eye. 

Alceste.  They  all  strike  mine;  and  far  from 
overlooking  them,  I  take  pains,  as  she  well 
knows,  to  bring  them  to  her  knowledge.  The 
more  we*  love  our  friends,  the  less  we  flatter 
them;  it  is  by  excusing  nothing  that  pure  love 
shows  itself.  For  my  part,  I  would  banish 
those  unworthy  lovers  who  slavishly  submit  to 
all  my  sentiments,  and  by  their  weak  compli- 
ance swing  incense  to  my  follies. 

Celimene.  In  short,  if  hearts  should  look  at 
things  in  your  way,  they  must,  in  order  to  love 
truly,  renounce  all  sweetness,  and  find  the 
crown  of  perfect  love  in  heaping  insults  on  the 
object  of  it. 

Eliante.  Love,  as  a  rule,  is  little  ruled  by 
laws.  All  lovers,  as  we  know,  boast  of  their 
choice.  True  passion  does  not  see  that  which 
is  blamable;  the  one  beloved  is  always  lovable. 
Defects  love  thinks  perfections,  and  gives  them 
pleasant  names.  The  pallid  one  is  comparable 
to  the  jasmine  in  her  whiteness;  the  swarthy 
skin  becomes  a  rich  brunette;  thinness  gives 
freedom  of  motion  and  a  slender  waist;  the 
portly  dame  is  full  of  majesty;  she  who  neglects 
her  person  and  takes  no  pains  to  charm  is 
called  a  careless  beauty;  the  giantess  becomes 
a  goddess;  the  dwarf,  an  epitome  of  all  heaven's 
marvels;   the  haughty  spirit  deserves  a  crown; 


THE  MISANTHROPE  27 

the  tricky  mind  has  wit;  the  fool  is  kind;  the 
chatterer,  good-humored;  the  silent  one  main- 
tains her  virtuous  modesty.  'Tis  thus  a  lover 
whose  passion  is  supreme  loves  even  the  defects 
of  her  he  worships. 

Akeste.     And  I  maintain,  yes  I 

Celimene.  Come,  let  us  end  this  talk,  and 
take  a  turn  or  two  about  the  gallery  What! 
are  you  going,  gentlemen? 

Clitandre  and  Acaste.     Oh,  no  madame. 

AJceste.  The  fear  of  their  departure  weighs 
on  your  soul.  Gentlemen,  leave  when  you 
please;  but  I  warn  you,  I  shall  not  go  till  you 
are  gone. 

Acaste.  Unless  my  presence  importunes  ma- 
dame, I  can  stay  here  all  day,  for  nothing  calls 
me  hence. 

Clitandre.  As  for  me,  provided  I  return  for 
the  king's  eoucher,  I  have  no  other  matters  to 
attend  to. 

Celimene,  to  Alceste.  You  are  joking,  I  am 
sure. 

Alceste.  No,  not  in  any  sense.  We  shall 
see  now  if  it  is  I  of  whom  you  are  anxious  to 
be  rid. 

SCENE   VI. 

ALCESTE,   CELIMENE,    ELIANTE,   ACASTE,   CLITANDRE, 

PHILINTE,   BASQUE. 

Basque  to  Alceste.  Monsieur,  a  man  is  below 
who  wishes  to  see  you,  he  says,  on  business 
which  cannot  be  delayed. 

Alceste.  Tell  him  I  know  of  no  such  urgent 
business. 

Basque.  He  wears  a  jacket  with  great  pleat- 
ed basques,  and  gold  upon  it. 

Celimene.  to  Alceste.  Go,  see  who  it  is;  or 
else,  have  him  shown  up. 


28  THE   MISANTHROPE 


SCENE  VII. 

ALCESTE,    CELIMENE,    ELIANTE,    ACASTE,    CLITANDRE, 
PHILINTE,   A  SOLDIER   OF   THE   MARSHALS*  GUARD. 

Alceste,  advancing  to  meet  him.  Come  in, 
monsieur.     What  do  you  want  with  me? 

Soldier.  Monsieur,  I  have  two  words  to  say- 
to  you. 

Alceste.  You  can  speak  out;  I  am  prepared 
to  hear  you. 

Soldier.  The  Marshals,  whom  I  serve,  mon- 
sieur,  bid  you   come   to  them  at   once.1 

Alceste.    Me?  bid  me,  monsieur? 

Soldier.    Yes,  you. 

Alceste.     Buy  why? 

Philinte,  to  Alceste.  Because  of  that  ridicu- 
lous affair  between  yourself  and  Oronte. 

Celimene,  to  Philinte.    What  affair? 

Philinte.  Oronte  and  he  had  words  about 
some  verses  he  would  not  admire;  and  the 
Marshals  wish   to  nip  the  matter  in  the  bud. 

Alceste.  I  will  not  have  the  base  compliance — 

Philinte.  But  you  must  obey  the  order; 
come,  let  us  go. 

Alceste.  What  sort  of  terms  do  they  desire 
to  make  between  us?  Will  the  Marshals  order 
me  to  think  the  verses  that  caused  our  quarrel 
good?  I  shall  not  unsay  what  I  have  said, — I 
think  them  bad. 

Philinte.     But  a  gentler  tone 

Alceste.  I  shall  not  yield  one  inch;  the  lines 
are  execrable. 


xThe  court  of  the  Marshals  of  France  took 
cognizance  of  quarrels  and  affairs  of  honor 
among  gentlemen. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  29 

Celimene.  Come,  come,  make  haste  and  go 
where  you  are  summoned. 

Alceste.  I  go,  madame;  but  I  shall  soon  re- 
turn to  settle,  in  this  room,  the  matter  we  have 
been  discussing. 

END    OF    ACT    SECOND. 

ACT  III. 
SCENE  I. 

CLITANDRE,    ACASTE. 

Clitandre.  I  observe,  my  dear  marquis,  that 
your  soul  is  contented;  all  things  make  you 
cheerful,  and  nothing  frets.  Now,  tell  me  in 
good  faith,  do  you  really  believe,  without  self- 
deception,  that  you  have  any  sound  reason 
for  being  so  happy? 

Acaste.  Parbleu!  I  don't  see,  when  I  look 
myself  over,  any  ground  whatever  for  discon- 
tent. I  have  property,  I  am  young,  I  belong 
to  a  house  which  has  certain  good  reasons  to 
call  itself  noble;  and  I  think,  through  the 
rank  to  which  my  blood  entitles  me,  there  are 
very  few  stations  in  life  that  I  cannot  fill.  As 
to  courage,  of  which,  of  course,  we  ought  to 
think  first,  I  know,  without  vanity,  that  I  am 
not  lacking  there;  I  have  been  seen  by  the 
world  to  carry  on  an  affair  in  a  sufficiently 
vigorous  and  dashing  manner.  As  for  wit, 
there's  no  question  but  what  I  have  that,  and 
with  it  enough  good  taste  to  judge  without 
study,  and  to  talk  about  everything.  At  the 
theatre,  of  which  I  am  truly  an  idolator,  I 
can  wear  a  wise  face,  decide  the  fortunes 
of  a  play,  and  lead  the  applause  at  all  the  fine 
speeches  which  merit  hurrahs.  I'm  sufficiently 
active;  I've  a  good  air  and  good  looks,  above 
all  fine  teeth,  and  my  figure  is  slim.  As  to 
my  style  of  dressing,  I  think,  without  vanity. 


30  THE  MISANTHROPE 

that  any  one  would  be  foolish  to  rival  me 
there.  My  position  in  the  world  is  as  good  as 
can  be;  the  fair  sex  adore  me;  I  stand  well 
with  the  king;  and,  therefore,  my  dear  mar- 
quis, I  see,  on  all  sides,  every  reason  to  be 
satisfied   with  myself. 

Clitandre.  Yet.  But  finding  everywhere  so 
many  easy  conquests,  why  do  you  persist  in 
offering    useless    homage    here? 

Acaste.  Useless?  ParUeu!  I'm  not  of  a 
kind  nor  of  a  temper  to  stand  cold  treatment 
from  any  beauty.  'Tis  only  common  minds  and 
ill-bred  persons  who  burn  persistently  for 
frigid  dames,  or  languish  at  their  feet,  en- 
dure their  rigor,  seek  help  from  tears  and 
sighs,  and  strive,  by  the  painstaking  of  a 
long-drawn  suit,  to  win  the  smiles  their  lack 
of  merit  forfeits.  Men  of  my  presence,  mar- 
quis, are  not  made  to  love  on  credit  and  pay 
all  the  costs.  However  choice  may  be  the 
lady's  favors,  I  think,  thank  God,  my  value 
equals  hers;  and  to  do  honor  to  a  heart  like 
mine  is  sure  no  reason  it  should  cost  her 
nothing.  To  put  the  thing  on  equitable  grounds, 
she  must  at  least  meet  my  advance  half-way. 

Clitandre.  So  you  think,  marquis,  you  stand 
well  with  Celimene? 

Acaste.  Marquis,  I  have  some  ground  to 
think  so.  -■'-..  ._     .  •      . 

Clitandre.  Take  my  advice;  get  rid  of  that 
idea;  it  is  an  error.  You  flatter  yourself,  my 
friend,  you  blind  yourself— 

Acaste.  Quite  true;  I  flatter  and  I  blind 
myself. 

Clitandre.  Why  call  your  happiness  so  per- 
fect, then? 

Acaste.    I  flatter  myself. 

Clitandre.  On  what  do  you  found  your 
hopes? 

Acaste.     I  blind  myself. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  31 

CUtandre.  Then  you  have  proofs  to  give 
you  certainty? 

Acaste.     I  tell  you,   I   deceive  myself. 

CUtandre.  Can  it  be  that  Celimene  has  made 
you   secret  promises? 

Acaste.     No,  she  rebuffs  me. 

CUtandre.  Oh!  cease  this  jesting,  and  let 
me   know  what   hopes   you   really  have. 

Acaste^  I  am  the  luckless,  you  the  lucky 
one.  She  has  so  deep  an  aversion  to  me  that 
one  of  these  days  I'll  surely  hang  myself. 

CUtandre.  Ah  ca!  marquis,  are  you  willing 
to  settle  our  fates  by  agreeing  that,  if  either 
of  us  can  show  some  certain  sign  of  having 
won  her  heart,  the  other  shall  make  way  for 
the  fortunate  lover  and  relieve  him  of  a  rival? 

Acaste.  Parbleu!  I  like  that  sort  of  talk, 
and  will,  with  all  my  heart,  agree  to  it.  But 
hush,  here  she  comes. 

SCENE  II. 
CELIMENE,    ACASTE,    CUTANDRE. 

Celimene.    What!   still  here? 

CUtandre.     Love   stayed   our   feet. 

Celimene.  I  have  just  heard  a  carriage  en- 
tering the  courtyard.  Do  you  know  whose 
it  is? 

CUtandre.    No. 

SCENE  III. 
CELIMENE,  ACASTE,   CLITANDRE. 

Basque.  Arsinoe,  madame,  is  coming  up  to 
see  you. 

Velimene.  What  can  that  woman  want  with 
me? 

Basque.  Eliante  is  below,  and  is  talking 
with  her. 

Celimene.  Something  is  in  her  mind,  or  why 
should  she  come  here? 


32  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Acaste.  She  is  thought  to  be  a  most  con- 
summate prude,  and  in  the  ardor  of  her 
zeal — 

CUmene.  Yes,  yes,  pure  cant!  At  heart  she's 
of  the  world;  and  all  her  efforts  aim  at  hook- 
ing on  to  others— in  which,  however,  she  has 
small  success.  She  cannot  see  without  an 
envious  eye  a  woman  followed  by  a  train  of 
suitors;  and  her  sour  virtue,  overlooked  by 
all,  is  ever  grumbling  that  the  age  is  blind. 
She  tries  to  cover  with  a  veil  of  prudery  the 
frightful  solitude  in  which  she  lives;  and,  to 
save  the  honor  of  her  scanty  charms,  she  at- 
tributes sin  to  powers  that  they  have  not.  And 
yet  a  lover  would  be  most  pleasant  to  my 
lady.  She  even  shows  some  tenderness  for 
Alceste;  the  attentions  that  he  pays  to  me 
offend  her;  she  tries  to  make  it  seem  that  I 
have  stolen  them;  and  her  jealous  spite,  which 
she  can  scarce  -conceal,  is  felt  in  underhanded 
ways  on  every  side.  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing, I  think,  so  foolish;  and  with  it  all  she 
is  impertinent  to  the  last  degree.    Therefore— 


SCENE   IV. 

ARSINOE,    CELIMENE,    CLITANDRE,    ACASTE. 

Celimenc.  Ah!  what  fortunate  fate  brings 
me  this  visit?  Madame,  in  all  sincerity,  I  was 
beginning  to  feel  most  anxious  for  your  wel- 
fare. 

Arsinoe.  I  have  come,  madame,  to  offer 
you  some  advice,  which  I  feel  I  owe  to  you. 

CeUmene.  Ah!  how  good  of  you,  and  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you! 

Clitandre  and  Acaste  go  out  laughing. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  33 

SCENE  V. 
ARSINOE,    CELIMENE. 

Arsinoe.  The  departure  of  those  gentlemen 
is  timely. 

Celimene.     Shall  we  sit  down? 

Arsinoe.  It  is  not  necessary.  Madame, 
friendship  should,  above  all,  be  shown  in  things 
that  most  affect  our  fellows;  and  as  there  are 
none  more  vitally  important  than  those  of 
honor  and  decorum,  I  have  come  to  prove  the 
friendship  my  heart  feels  for  you  by  offering 
counsel  which  concerns  your  honor.  Yester- 
day I  visited  some  friends,  of  sterling  virtue. 
There  the  conversation  turned  on  you;  un- 
fortunately, your  conduct  and  its  notoriety 
were  not  approved.  The  crowd  of  men  you 
suffer  to  approach  you,  your  coquetry,  and  the 
rumors  it  excites,  received  more  consure  and 
far  harsher  blame  than  I  could  wish.  You 
will  readily  conceive  the  course  I  took.  I 
said  all  that  I  could  in  your  defence;  excused 
you,  firmly,  as  to  your  intentions,  offering 
to  vouch  for  your  good  soul.  But — as  you 
know — there  are  things  in  life  that  cannot  be 
excused,  however  much  we  wish  to  do  so,  and 
I  found  myself,  at  last,  constrained  to  admit 
that  your  manner  of  living  does  certainly  seem 
wrong,  and  has — to  the  world — an  injurious 
appearance;  also  that  mischievous  tales  are 
being  told  of  it,  and  that  your  conduct  might, 
if  you  were  only  willing,  give  far  less  ground 
for  condemnation.  Not  that  I  think  your  virtue 
really  injured — God  forbid  that  I  should  think 
so!  But  the  world  believes  in  the  mere  shadow 
of  sin;  and  it  is  not  enough  to  satisfy  our  con- 
science only.  Madame,  I  think  your  mind  too 
reasonable  to  take  amiss  this  useful  counsel, 
or  to  attribute  it  to  other  motives  than  the 
hearty  zeal  which  binds  me  to  your  interests. 


34  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Celimene.  Madame,  I  have  many  thanks  to 
render  you;  such  counsel  can  but  gratify  me; 
and,  far  from  taking  it  amiss,  I  wish  to  recog- 
nize the  favor  you  have  done  me  by  instantly 
returning  it  with  other  counsel  which  concerns 
your  honor.  As  you  have  shown  yourself  so 
heartily  my  friend  by  telling  me  the  rumors 
people  spread  about  me,  I  wish  to  follow,  in 
my  turn,  so  kind  an  example  by  telling  you 
what  people  say  of  you.  The  other  day,  at  a 
house  where  I  was  visiting,  I  met  some  persons 
of  high  character,  who,  speaking  of  a  soul's  true 
kindness,  turned  their  remarks,  madame,  on 
you.  Unfortunately,  your  prudery  and  your 
bursts  of  pious  zeal  were  not  regarded  by  them 
as  a  good  example.  This  affection  of  a  grave 
demeanor;  your  endless  talks  of  virtue  and  of 
honor;  your  frowns  and  outcries  at  the  shadow 
of  indecency  which  one  ambiguous  word  can 
cast  upon  yourself;  the  pitying  glances  you 
bestow  on  others;  your  frequent  lectures,  yeur 
sour  censure  of  things  that  in  themselves  are 
pure  and  innocent,— all  this,  if  I  may  speak 
to  you  quite  frankly,  madame,  was  blamed  with 
one  consent.  What  is  the  good,  they  said,  of 
all  this  modesty,  this  virtuous  exterior,  if  it  be- 
lies the  rest?  'Tis  true  she  says  her  prayers 
with  rigid  punctuality,  but  then  she  beats  her 
servants  and  she  does  not  pay  them;  in  pious 
places  she  displays  her  zeal,  but  she  paints  her 
face  in  order  to  seem  handsome;  she  covers  up 
the  nakedness  of  pictures,  but  has  a  liking  for 
realities.  As  for  me,  madame,  I  took  up  firmly 
your  defence  with  each  and  all;  assuring  them 
that  what  they  said  was  slanderous.  But  their 
views  clashed  with  mine;  and  their  conclusion 
was  that  you  would  do  well  to  meddle  less  with 
others'  actions  and  look  more  closely  to  your 
own.  They  said  we  ought  to  look  at  home  a 
good  long  time  before  we  think  of  judging  other 


THE  MISANTHROPE  35 

people;  that  an  exemplary  life  alone  gives 
weight  to  our  correction  of  the  lives  of  others; 
moreover,  that  in  any  case,  't  is  better  to  remit 
that  duty  to  those  whom  heaven  has  selected  for 
it.  Madame,  I  think  you  are  too  reasonable  to 
take  amiss  this  useful  counsel,  or  to  attribute 
it  to  other  motives  than  the  hearty  zeal  which 
binds  me  to  your  interests. 

Arsinoe.  I  know  that  in  reproving  we  sub- 
ject ourselves  to  much;  but  I  did  not  expect  this 
sharp  retort,  madame;  and  I  see  plainly,  by  its 
very  bitterness,  that  my  sincere  advice  has  cut 
you  to  the  heart. 

Celimene.  Quite  the  contrary,  madame;  and 
if  the  world  were  wise  these  mutual  counsels 
would  be  made  the  custom.  Given  in  good 
faith,  they  would  dispel  the  utter  blindness  each 
has  for  himself.  It  rests  with  you  to  carry  on 
this  faithful  office  with  your  past  zeal.  Let 
us  take  pains  to  tell  ourselves,  between  our- 
selves, just  what  you  hear  of  me,  and  I  of  you. 

Arsinoe.  Ah,  madame,  I  shall  hear  nought 
of  you;  it  is  of  me  the  most  reproving  things 
are  said. 

Celimene.  Madame,  I  think  that  all  things 
may  be  praised  and  blamed;  and  each  award 
is  just,  according  to  age  or  fancy.  There  is  a 
season  for  coquettish  gallantry;  there  is  an- 
other, still  more  suitable,  for  prudery.  "Tis 
wise,  from  policy,  to  choose  that  style  when 
time  has  deadened  the  glow  of  youth;  it  serves 
to  cover  a  mortifying  downfall.  I  don't  deny 
that  some  day  I  may  follow  on  your  traces, 
for  age  brings  everything.  But  it  is  still  too 
early,  madame,  as  everybody  knows,  to  be  a 
prude  at  twenty. 

Arsinoe.  You  plume  yourself  on  very  slight 
advantages,  and  ring  your  age  with  wonderful, 
effect!  But  an  advantage  that  you  share  with 
many  is  not  so  much  to  boast  of,  after  all.    I 


36  THE  MISANTHROPE 

know  not  why  your  temper  drives  you,  madame, 
thus  to  provoke  me  in  so  strange  a  way. 

Celimene.  And  I,  madame,  I  really  know  not 
why  you  constantly  declaim  against  me  every- 
where. Must  I  be  punished  for  your  disappoint- 
ments? Is  it  my  fault  that  no  one  courts  you? 
What  can  I  do  if  men  will  love  me,  and  will 
persist  in  offering  vows  your  heart  may  wish 
to  take  away  from  me?  The  field  is  open  to 
you.  I  do  not  hinder  any  of  your  charms  from 
winning  lovers. 

Arsinoe.  Alas!  and  do  you  really  think  the 
number  of  your  lovers,  of  which  you  seem  so 
vain,  can  trouble  others;  or  that  we  do  not  find 
it  easy  to  appraise  the  price  at  which  you 
gain  them?  Do  you  think  to  persuade  us — 
who  see  how  things  are  going — that  your  good 
qualities  alone  attract  your  followers;  or  that 
they  burn  for  you  with  honest  love,  and  court 
you  solely  for  your  virtue?  The  world  is  not 
a  dupe;  it  is  not  blind  by  such  vain  pretences. 
Many  a  woman  fitted  to  inspire  the  tenderest 
sentiments  does  not  have  lovers;  from  that  the 
argument  is  plain:  their  hearts  cannot  be  won 
without  great  effort,  for  none  may  woo  us  for 
our  beauty  only,  but  all  must  buy  the  right  of 
courting  us.  Therefore  you  need  not  swell  with 
pride  for  such  poor  sparkles  of  a  trivial  victory- 
Correct  the  self-conceit  of  your  attractions,  and 
cease  to  treat  us  superciliously.  If  our  eyes 
envied  the  conquests  your  obtain,  methinks  we 
all  could  do  as  you  do, — cease  to  conduct  our- 
selves with  self-respect,  and  let  you  see  that 
others  can  have  suitors  when  they  please. 

Celimene.  Then  have  them,  madame;  let  me 
see  it  done;  with  this  rare  secret  make  the 
effort  to  please,  and 

Arsinoe.  Madame,  let  us  end  this  confer- 
ence; it  irritates  too  much  your  soul  and  mine. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  37 

I  should  already  have  taken  leave  of  you,  were 
I  not  forced  to  wait  here  for  my  carriage. 

Celimene.  Pray  stay  as  long  as  suits  you, 
madame;  nothing  need  hasten  your  departure. 
But,  not  to  weary  you  with  my  presence,  I'll 
give  you  better  company;  and  monsieur  here, 
whom  chance  has  brought  so  opportunely,  shall 
fill  my  place  and  entertain  you  better. 

SCENE   VI. 
ALCESTE,   CELIMENE,   ARSINOE. 

Celimene.  Alceste,  I  have  a  letter  I  must 
write;  it  cannot  be  delayed  without  some  blame 
to  me.  Stay  with  madame;  she  will  have  the 
kindness,  I  am  sure,  to  excuse  my  incivility. 

SCENE  VII. 

ALCESTE,   ARSINOE. 

Arsinoe.  You  see  she  wishes  me  to  entertain 
you  until  my  carriage  comes;  and  her  civility 
could  provide  me  with  nothing  more  truly 
charming  than  this  interview.  Persons  of  lofty 
merit  draw  forth  the  esteem  and  love  of  every 
one;  and  yours,  undoubtedly,  has  secret  charms 
which  lead  my  heart  to  enter  all  your  in- 
terests. I  wish  the  court,  with  more  propitious 
eyes,  would  do  full  justice  to  your  claims.  You 
have  much  cause  for  indignation.  I  am  angry 
almost  daily  to  see  that  nothing  has  been  done 
for   you. 

Alceste.  For  me,  madame?  On  what  pre- 
tensions should  I  base  a  claim?  What  service 
to  the  State  have  I  been  known  to  render? 
What  have  I  done,  if  you  please,  so  brilliant 
in  itself  that  I  have  cause  to  grumble  because 
the  court  does  nothing  in  return  for  it? 

Arsinoe.  It  is  not  every  one  on  whom  our 
court  casts  a  propitious  eye  who  has  done  good 


38  THE  MISANTHROPE 

service  to  the  State.  Opportunity  is  needed  as 
well  as  power.  The  great  deserts  tnat  all  men 
see  in  you  ought 

Alceste.  For  heaven's  sake,  madame,  say 
nothing  of  my  deserts.  Why  do  you  wish  the 
court  to  trouble  itself  about  them?  Its  cares 
would  be  too  many  and  its  hands  too  full  if 
it  unearthed  the  merits  of  everybody. 

Arsinoe.  A  dazzling  merit  will  unearth  it- 
self; and  yours  is  thought  extreme  on  every 
side.  I  must  tell  you  now  that  yesterday,  in 
two  distinguished  houses,  you  were  much 
praised  by  persons  of  great  weight. 

Alceste.  Hey!  madame,  't  is  nowadays  the 
fashion  to  laud  every  one.  That  is  the  way  by 
which  the  present  century  levels  everything. 
All  are  of  equal  merit;  it  is  no  longer  an  honor 
to  be  praised.  Why!  praises  are  stuffed  down 
your  throat,  flung  at  your  head;  and  there's 
my  valet's  name  in  the  gazette!, 

Arsinoe.  For  my  part,  I  have  wished  you  to 
obtain  some  place  at  court  in  which  to  show 
your  merit  to  the  world.  If  only  you  consented, 
we  would  intrigue  a  little,  and,  to  oblige  you, 
start  a  few  machines  I  myself  have  men  in 
hand  whom  I  could  use,  and  they  would  make 
the  way  quite  smooth  for  you. 

Alceste.  Madame,  what  would  you  have  me 
do  at  court?  The  disposition  that  I  feel  with- 
in me  requires  rather  that  I  keep  away  from 
it.  Heaven  did  not  make  me,  when  it  gave  me 
breath,  with  a  soul  congenial  to  the  courtly  at- 
mosphere, I  am  conscious  that  I  do  not  pos- 
sess the  necessary  virtues  to  succeed  there  and 
do  my  duty.  Frankness  and  sincerity  are  my 
chief  talents;  and  he  who  does  not  have  the 
gift  of  hiding  what  he  thinks,  had  better  make 
short  stay  in  courtly  regions.  Outside  the 
court,  of  course  we  cannot  have  the  strong  sup- 
port or  the  titles  of  honor  it  gives  nowadays. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  39 

But,  in  losing  those  advantages,  we  are  spared 
the  vexations  trifling  of  silly  persons;  we  need 
not  suffer  merciless  rebuffs,  nor  be  compelled 
to  praise  the  verse  of  Monsieur  Such-a-one,  nor 
shower  incense  on  Madame  This-or-that,  nor 
undergo  the  brains  of  seedling  marquises. 

Arsinoe.  Then  we  will  drop,  since  you  de- 
sire it,  this  matter  of  the  court;  but  my  heart 
is  forced  to  pity  you  in  your  love;  and,  if  I 
may  disclose  my  thoughts  upon  it,  I  wish  with 
all  my  soul  't  were  better  placed.  Indeed  you 
have  deserved  a  gentler  fate,  for  she  who 
charms  you  is  unworthy  of  you. 

Aleeste.  In  saying  that,  I  beg  you  to  re- 
member, madame,  this  lady  is  your  friend. 

Arsinoe.  Yes.  But  my  conscience  is  too 
wounded  to  bear  a  moment  longer  the  wrong 
she  does  you.  The  state  in  which  I  see  you 
grieves  my  soul  too  much;  I  am  forced  to  warn 
you  she  betrays  your  love. 

Aleeste.  You  show  me  thus,  madame,  a 
tender  impulse;  such  warnings  would  oblige  a 
lover. 

Arsinoe.  Yes,  though  she  be  my  friend,  she 
is,  and  I  dare  say  it,  unworthy  to  enthrall  a 
good  man's  heart;  hers  has  for  you  a  counter- 
feited tenderness. 

Aleeste.  It  may  be  so,  madame;  we  cannot 
see  the  hearts  of  others.  But  your  charity 
might  well  have  paused  before  you  cast  this 
painful  thought  in  mine. 

Arsinoe.  Oh!  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  unde- 
ceived, there  is  no  need  to  tell  you  anything; 
that,  indeed,  is  easy. 

Aleeste.  No,  it  can  not  end  so.  This  is  a 
subject  on  which,  no  matter  what  is  learned, 
doubts  are  more  cruel  than  the  worst  of  truths. 
For  my  part,  I  would  rather  nothing  were  told 
me  unless  it  could  be  shown  with  certainty. 

Arsinoe.     That  is  enough.     Upon  this  subject 


40  THE  MISANTHROPE 

you  shall  have  full  light.  Yes,  I  will  let  you 
trust  your  own  eyes  only.  Give  me  your  hand 
to  take  me  home.  There  I  will  show  you  posi- 
tive proof  of  the  unfaithful  heart  of  her  you 
love.  And,  if  for  other  eyes  your  own  could 
long,  it  may  be  you  would  find  some  there  to 
comfort  you. 

END  OF  ACT  THIRD. 

ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I. 

ELIANTE,  PHILINTE. 

Philinte.  No,  a  soul  so  hard  to  manage  was 
never  seen;  no  reconciliation  was  ever  yet  so 
troublesome  to  bring  about.  In  vain  they  tried  in 
every  way  to  move  him;  out  of  his  fixed  opinion 
he  would  not  be  dragged.  Never  did  a  more 
fantastic  quarrel,  I  am  sure,  engage  the  wisdom 
of  the  Marshals.  "No,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  1 
shall  not  retract.  On  every  other  matter  I  will 
agree  with  him,  but  not  on  this.  Why  is  he 
affronted?  Of  what  does  he  complain?  Is  his 
fame  injured  because  he  cannot  write  poems? 
What  does  my  opinion,  which  he  takes  so  ill, 
signify  to  him?  A  man  can  be  a  gentleman  and 
make  bad  verses.  Such  matters  do  not  touch 
his  honor,  and  I  told  him  to  be  a  gallant  man 
in  every  other  way;  a  man  of  quality,  of  cour- 
age, deserving  of  anything  you  please,  but—a 
bad  writer.  I  will  praise,  if  you  wish  it,  his 
way  of  living,  of  spending  money,  his  skill  on 
horse-back,  in  fencing,  dancing;  but  as  for 
praising  his  verses,  I  beg  to  be  excused!  When 
a  man  has  not  the  happiness  to  be  able  to  write 
better  than  that,  he  ought  to  repress,  under 
pain  of  death,  his  desire  to  make  rhymes. 
Finally,  all  the  grace  and  concession  to  which, 
with  great  effort,  his  feelings  were  brought 
could  only   induce  him  to   say— thinking  that 


THE  MISANTHROPE  41 

he  softened  his  style  exceedingly:  "Monsieur, 
I  am  sorry  to  be  so  critical,  and  I  heartily  wish, 
out  of  good-will  to  you,  that  I  could  have 
thought  your  sonnet  better."  After  which  an 
embrace  was  hastily  brought  about  in  order 
to  conclude  the  proceedings  as  fast  as  possible. 

Eliante.  He  certainly  is  very  singular  in  his 
manner  of  acting;  but,  I  must  confess,  I  esteem 
him  highly.  The  sincerity  on  which  his  soul 
so  prides  itself  has  something  noble  and  heroic 
in  it.  'Tis  a  virtue  rare  indeed  in  these  days; 
and  I  wish  I  could  see  it  in  others  as  in  him. 

Philinte.  As  for  me,  the  more  I  see  of  him 
the  more  amazed  I  am  at  this  passion  to  which 
he  yields  his  heart.  With  the  nature  it  has 
pleased  God  to  give  him,  I  cannot  see  how  it  is 
that  he  loves  as  he  does;  and  still  less  do  I  see 
why  your  cousin  should  be  the  woman  to  whom 
his  heart  inclines. 

Eliante.  It  only  shows  that  love  is  not  in- 
variably produced  in  hearts  by  harmony  of 
disposition;  and  all  those  theories  of  gentle 
sympathy  are  in  this  case  belied. 

Philinte.  But  do  you  think,  from  what  you 
see,  that  he  is  loved? 

Eliante.  That  is  a  point  it  is  not  easy  to 
make  out.  How  can  we  judge  how  truly  she 
may  love  him?  Her  heart  is  never  really  sure 
itself;  sometimes  she  loves  and  does  not  know 
it;  at  other  times  she  thinks  she  loves  and 
there  is  nothing  in  it. 

Philinte.  I  think  our  friend  will  find  more 
grief  than  he  imagines  with  your  cousin.  To 
tell  the  truth,  if  he  possessed  my  heart,  he 
would  have  turned  his  homage  elsewhere,  and 
by  a  wiser  choice  have  shown,  madame,  that 
he  profits  by  the  kindness  you  have  shown  him. 

Eliante.  For  myself,  I  stand  on  no  punctilio, 
for  I  think  that  in  such  matters  we  should  show 
good  faith.    I  do  not  oppose  his  tenderness  for 


.  42  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Celimene;  on  the  contrary,  my  heart  is  inter- 
ested for  her,  and  if  the  thing  depended  upon 
me  I  should  myself  unite  him  to  the  one  he 
loves.  But  if  in  such  a  choice  (as  well  may 
happen)  his  love  should  meet  some  unpropitious 
fate,  and  it  so  chanced  another's  suit  were 
crowned,  I  could  resolve  to  accept  his  homage 
then;  for  the  refusal  suffered  by  him  in  such 
a  case  would  cause  me  no  repugnance. 

Philinte.  Neither  do  I  oppose,  madame,  the 
kindness  which  your  charming  soul  bestows 
upon  him;  and  he  himself  can  tell  you,  if  he 
will,  what  I  have  taken  pains  to  say  to  him 
about  it.  But  if,  by  the  marriage  which  he 
now  desires,  you  should  be  unable  to  receive 
his  vows,  I  shall  then  seek  the  transcendent 
favor  which  your  soul  with  so  much  generosity 
now  gives  to  him, — happy  when  his  heart  turns 
elsewhere,  if  yours,  madame,  falls  back  on 
mine. 

Eliante.     You  are  making  merry,  Philinte. 

Philinte.  No,  madame;  I  am  speaking  now 
of  my  soul's  best;  and  I  await  the  occasion  to 
offer  myself  openly;  trusting,  with  all  my  heart,- 
the  moment  soon  may  come. 

SCENE  II. 
ALCESTE,    ELIANTE,    PHILINTE. 

Alceste.  Ah!  avenge  me,  madame,  for  an  af- 
front which  has,  at  last,  conquered  my  con- 
stancy. 

Eliante.  "What  is  it?  "What  can  have  moved 
you  thus? 

Alceste.  That  which  I  can't  cenceive  of  with- 
out dying.  And  the  upheaval  of  all  the  natural 
world  could  not  unhinge  me  more  than  this 
disaster.  'Tis  done,  'tis  over!  My  love — I  can- 
not speak  of  it! 

Eliante.     Try  to  control  your  mind. 


THE   MISANTHROPE  43 

Alceste.  Oh,  just  Heaven!  why  were  such 
charms  joined  to  the  vices  of  the  basest  souls? 

Eliante.-    But  still,  what  have 

Alceste.  Ah!  all  is  ruined;  I  am — I  am  be- 
trayed, I  am  destroyed.  Celimene — who  could 
believe  it? — Celimene  deceives  me;  she  is  un- 
faithful. 

Eliante.  Have  you  just  grounds  for  that 
belief? 

Philinte.  Perhaps  it  is  mere  suspicion,  light- 
ly kindled.  Your  jealous  mind  invents,  at 
times,  chimeras. 

Alceste.  Ha!  morbleu!  monsieur,  mind  your 
own  affairs.  [To  Eliante']  I  am,  alas!  too  cer- 
tain of  her  treachery;  for  here,  in  my  pocket, 
written  by  her  own  hand,  is  a  letter  to  Oronte 
which  proves  to  my  very  eyes  her  shame  and 
my  disgrace —  Oronte!  whose  homage  I  be- 
lieved she  fled;  the  one  of  all  my  rivals  whom 
I  feared  the  least. 

Philinte.  A  letter  easily  misleads  at  sight, 
and  is  often  not  so  guilty  as  we  think  it. 

Alceste.  Monsieur,  once  more,  let  me  alone, 
I  beg;  and  keep  your  interest  for  your  own 
concerns. 

Eliante.  You  ought  to  moderate  your  anger. 
And  this  outrage 

Alceste.  Madame,  it  rests  with  you  to  avenge 
it.  It  is  to  you  I  have  recourse  to  free  my 
heart  from  poignant  anguish.  Avenge  me  on 
your  cousin,  your  ungrateful  and  perfidious 
cousin,  who  basely  has  betrayed  a  faithful  love. 
Avenge  me  for  a  wrong  which  you  must  hold 
in  horror. 

Eliante.    I  avenge  you!    how? 

Alceste.  Accept  my  heart — accept  it,  ma- 
dame,  and  take  the  place  of  that  unfaithful 
woman.  In  that  way  only  can  I  have  revenge; 
T  wish  to  punish  her  by  the  honest  vows,  the 


44  THE   MISANTHROPE 

deep  affection,  the  respectful  suit,  the  assidu- 
ous service,  and  the  fervent  duty  my  heart 
henceforth  will  offer  on  your  altar. 

Eliante.  I  pity  what  you  suffer,  certainly, 
and  I  do  not  reject  the  heart  you  offer  me; 
but  the  wrong  is  not,  perhaps,  so  great  as  you 
imagine,  and  you  may  still  give  up  these 
thoughts  of  vengeance.  When  we  are  hurt  by 
some  one  who  has  a  deep  attraction  we  are 
apt  to  make  rash  plans  we  do  not  execute.  We 
may  see  powerful  reasons  to  break  our  chain, 
and  yet  a  guilty  dear  one  soon  is  innocent;  and 
then  the  revenge  we  wish  to  take  is  easily  dis- 
pelled, and  we  see  't  is  but  a  lovers'  quarrel 
after  all. 

Alceste.  No,  -no,  madame,  I  assure  vou,  no. 
The  offence  is  mortal.  I  break  my  bonds,  and 
there  is  no  return.  Nothing  can  change  my 
firm  intention,  for  I  should  punish  myself  were 
I  to  love  her  still.  Here  she  is;  my  anger  is* 
redoubled  by  her  presence.  I  will  denounce 
her  treacherous  actions  to  her  face,  and  so 
confound  her.  After  which,  freed  once  for  all 
from  her  deceitful  charm,  I'll  bring  to  you  a 
heart  at  liberty. 

SCENE  III. 
CELIMENE,    ALCESTE. 

Alceste,  aside.  Oh,  heaven!  can  I  be  master 
of  my  emotions? 

Celimene,  aside.  Heyday!  (To  Alceste)  What 
troubles  you  thus?  Why  these  sighs,  these 
gloomy  looks?    Are  they  meant  for  me? 

Alceste.  Of  all  the  wrongs  of  which  the  soul 
is  capable,  nothing  compares  with  your  dis- 
loyalty. Pate,  devils,  and  the  anger  of  high 
Heaven  have  never  yet  produced  a  thing  so  evil. 

Celimene.  Here  's  sweetness  truly,  and  I 
like  it  much. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  45 

Alceste.  Do  not  jest;  this  is  no  time  to 
laugh;  blush  rather,  for  there  is  ample  reason; 
I  have  sure  proofs  of  your  betrayal.  This  was 
the  meaning  of  my  troubled  soul;  'twas  not  in 
vain  my  love  became  alarmed;  those  frequent 
doubts  you  thought  so  odious  were  warnings 
of  the  calamity  before  me.  In  spite  of  all  your 
care  and  cleverness  in  deception,  my  star  was 
telling  me  of  that  I  had  to  fear.  But  do  not 
think  that  I  will  suffer  the  sting  of  such  an 
outrage  and  not  take  vengeance.  I  know  we 
have  no  power  over  desire;  that  love  is,  every- 
where, born  independent;  no  force  can  thrust 
it  on  the  heart,  and  every  soul  is  free  to  choose 
its  conqueror.  Therefore  I  should  have  had  no 
reason  to  complain  had  your  lips  spoken  truly, 
and  refused  my  suit  when  first  I  pressed  it.  My 
heart  would  then  have  had  no  right  to  quarrel 
with  its  fate.  But  to  find  my  love  accepted 
with  false  vows — that  is  betrayal,  that  is  per- 
fidy, which  cannot  be  too  sternly  punished,  and 
I  will  give  the  reins  to  my  resentment.  Yes, 
yes,  fear  all  after  such  infamy;  I  am  no  more 
myself,  I  am  all  anger!  Stabbed  by  the  mortal 
blow  your  hand  has  struck,  my  senses  are  no 
longer  ruled  by  reason;  I  yield  to  the  prompt- 
ings of  a  just  resentment,  and  I  will  not  an- 
swer for  what  I  now  may  do. 

Celimene.  But  what  has  caused,  if  I  may 
ask,  this  violent  fit  of  anger?  Have  you  lost 
your   reason? 

Alceste.  Yes,  yes,  I  have  lost  it!  I  lost  it 
when  from  the  sight  of  you  I  took,  for  my 
sorrow,  the  poison  that  is  killing  me,  and  when 
I  trusted  the  sincerity  of  all  those  traitorous 
charms  which  so  enthralled  me. 

Celimene.  What  is  this  treachery  of  which 
you  thus  complain? 

Alceste.  Ah!  double-heart,  that  knows  so 
well  the  art  of  feigning!     But  I  have  the  means 


46  THE  MISANTHROPE 

at  hand  all  ready  to  confound  it.  Cast  your 
eyes  here,  and  recognize  your  writing.  This 
discovered  letter  suffices  to  convict  you; 
against  this  witness  there  is  no  reply. 

Celimene.  Is  this  the  matter  that  has  so 
disturbed  you? 

Alceste.    You  do  not  blush  to  see  that  letter? 

Celimene.  And  why,  pray,  should  I  blush  to 
see  it? 

Alceste.  What!  do  you  add  audacity  to 
treachery?  Will  you  disavow  that  note  because 
it  does  not  bear  your  seal? 

Celimene.  Why  should  I  disavow  a  letter 
written  by  me? 

Alceste.  Can  you  see  it  without  shame  for 
the  crime  toward  me  of  which  it  proves  you 
guilty?  ,  , 

Celimene.  You  are,  upon  my  word,  a  most 
unreasonable  man. 

Alceste.  What!  do  you  dare  defy  that 
ocular  proof,  and  say  that  in  its  tenderness 
to  Oronte  there  is  nothing  to  outrage  me  and 
make  you  blush? 

Celimene.  Oronte!  who  says  the  letter  was 
to  him?  s    tM   . 

Alceste.  The  persons  who  placed  it  m  my 
hands  this  day.  But  I'll  agree  it  might  be  for 
another— if  so,  would  my  heart  have  less  rea- 
son to  complain  of  yours?  would  you  be  guilt- 
less toward  me?  _ 

Celimene.  But  if  it  be  a  woman  to  whom  I 
wrote  that  letter,  why  should  it  wound  you? 
where's  the  crime  of  that? 

Alceste.  Ha!  the  shift  is  good,  the  evasion 
admirable!  I  did  not  expect,  I  must  admit, 
this  trick,  but  it  convinces  me  completely. 
How  dare  you  have  recourse  to  vulgar  sub- 
terfuge? Do  you  think  me  blind?  Go  on, 
and  let  me  see  the  crooked  ways,  the  shifty 
air   by    which   you   will   maintain    so    clear    a 


THE  MISANTHROPE  47 

[sehood;  I'd  like  to  know  how  you  can  twist 
to  suit  a  woman  the  words  of  that  letter  which 
is  full  of  passion.  Explain,  to  hide  your  lack 
of  truth,  the  words  I  now  will  read  to  you — 

Celimene.  I  do  not  choose  it.  I  think  you 
are  ridiculous  enough,  to  use  your  power  as 
you  do,  and  dare  to  tell  me  to  my  face  all 
this. 

Alceste.  No,  no;  be  not  so  angry;  take  some 
pains  to  justify  these  words  of  yours 

Celimene.  No,  I  refuse  to  hear  them;  what 
it  may  please  you  to  believe  in  this  affair  is  of 
the  smallest  consequence  to  me. 

Alceste.  I  beg  of  you,  tell  me  the  truth;  I 
will  be  satisfied — if  I  can  be — that  the  letter 
is  to  a  woman. 

Celimene.  No,  the  letter  is  to  Oronte;  I  wish 
it  to  be  believed.  I  receive  his  attentions  with 
great  pleasure;  I  admire  what  he  says,  I  value 
what  he  is.  I  am  ready  to  agree  to  all  you 
say.  Now,  do  as  you  please,  take  your  own 
course;  but  do  not  wear  me  out  with  such 
scenes  any  longer. 

Alceste,  aside.  Heavens!  was  ever  my  fate 
more  cruel?  Was  ever  heart  so  treated?  What! 
when  a  just  displeasure  forces  me  to  speak,  't 
is  I  who  am  complained  of,  I  who  make  the 
quarrel!  My  grief  and  my  suspicions  are  goad- 
ed on,  and  I  am  told  I  may  believe  the  worst — 
in  which  she  glories!  And  yet  my  heart  is  still 
so  cowardly  as  not  to  break  the  chain  that 
binds  me  to  her,  or  arm  itself  with  laudable  con- 
tempt for  the  ungrateful  object  it  has  loved  too 
well.  {To  Celimene)  Ah!  you  know  well,  per- 
fidious woman,  how  to  make  my  weakness  serve 
your  ends  in  spite  of  myself,  and  how  to  use 
the  fatal  love,  born  of  your  eyes,  to  carry  out 
your  purposes.  Defend  yourself,  at  least,  from 
a  crime  that  overwhelms  me;  cease  this  affec- 
tation of  being  guilty.     Prove  to  me,  if  you 


48  THE  MISANTHROPE 

can,  the  innocence  of  that  letter;  my  tender- 
ness consents  to  come  to  your  assistance — strive 
to  seem  faithful,  and  I,  in  turn,  will  strive  to 
think  you  so. 

Cclimene.  Oh!  you  are  mad  with  all  your 
jealous  transports;  you  dn't  deserve  the  love 
I  feel  for  you.  I  should  like  much  to  know 
what  could  induce  me  to  stoop  so  low  as  to 
deceive  you;  and  why,  if  my  heart  leaned  an- 
other way,  I  should  not  say  so  with  sincerity. 
How  is  it  that  the  kind  assurance  I  gave  you  of 
my  feelings  was  not  enough  to  save  me  from 
your  suspicions?  Has  such  a  pledge  no  power 
against  them?  and  is  it  not  insulting  me  to 
listen  to  their  voice?  Because  a  woman's  heart 
makes  a  strong  effort  when  it  owns  its  love; 
because  the  honor  of  our  sex — that  enemy  to 
ardor — firmly  opposes  such  avowals,  should  the 
lover  for  whose  sake  we  overcome  those  ob- 
stacles, should  he  be  the  one  to  doubt  our  truth? 
Is  he  not  guilty  in  suffering  others  to  say  these 
things — at  least  without  a  combat?  Go!  such 
foul  suspicions  deserve  my  anger;  you  are  not 
worth  the  esteem  in  which  I  held  you.  How 
foolish  I  have  been!  I  am  vexed  with  my  sim- 
plicity in  keeping  any  kindness  in  my  heart 
for  you.  I  ought  to  turn  my  love  elsewhere, 
and  give  you  thus  a  subject  of  legitimate  com- 
plaint. 

Alceste.  Ah!  traitress,  my  weakness  is  in- 
deed a  mystery.  Doubtless  you  are  deceiving 
me  with  those  soft  words.  What  of  it?  I 
must  follow  my  destiny;  my  soul  is  given  over 
to  your  worship.  I  wish  to  see  the  end  of  this, 
and  know  what  is  your  heart, — and  whether 
it  is  black  enough  to  still  betray  me. 

Celimene.  No,  for  you  do  not  love  me  as  I 
must  be  loved. 

Alceste.  Ah!  my  love  is  far  beyond  compare; 
and  in  its  ardor  to  show  itself  for  what  it  is 


THE  MISANTHROPE  49 

to  all  the  world,  it  even  forms  desires  against 
you.  Yes,  I  would  fain  that  no  one  thought 
you  lovable;  I  would  you-  were  reduced  to 
misery;  that  Heaven  denied  you  everything; 
that  you  had  nor  rank,  nor  birth,  nor  wealth, 
so  that  my  love  might  make  some  startling  sac- 
rifice to  heal  the  injustice  destiny  had  done 
you,  and  that  my  heart  might  have  the  joy  and 
glory  of  seeing  you  hold  all  things  through  my 
love. 

Celimene.  That's  a  strange  fashion  of  wish- 
ing well  to  me;  heaven  grant  you  may  not 
have  the  chance  of  it.  But  here's  your  valet, 
seemingly  excited. 

SCENE   IV. 

CELIMENE,     ALCESTE,     DUBOIS. 

Alceste.  What  is  all  this?  and  why  this 
frightened  air? 

Dubois.  Strange  things  have  happened.  Mat- 
ters are  going  wrong  in  our  affairs 

Alceste.    How? 

Dubois.  Monsieur,  we  must  get  away  at  once. 
We  must  slip  off  silently. 

Alceste.  But  your  reason,  say?  Why  do 
you  use  such  language? 

Dubois.  The  reason  is  we  must  be  packing. 

Alceste.  Ha!  I'll  break  your  head  assuredly 
if  you  don't  answer  differently. 

Dubois.  Monsieur,  a  man  all  black  in  face 
and  clothes  came  to  the  house,  and  even  to 
the  kitchen;  where  he  left  a  paper,  scribbled 
in  such  a  way  that  one  had  need  to  be  worse 
than  any  devil  to  read  it.  It  concerns,  no  doubt, 
your  lawsuit,  but  all  the  fiends  in  hell,  I  think, 
could  never  make  it  out. 

Alceste.  Well,  what  of  it?  What  has  that 
paper  to  do,  you  fool,  with  the  departure  that 
you  talked  about? 


50  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Dubois.  Monsieur,  an  hour  later  a  gentleman 
who  visits  vou  came  hurrying  to  see  you  in 
much  excitement.  Not  finding  you  ^  charged 
me  civilly  (knowing  with  what  zeal  I  serve 
you),  to  tell  you-  Stay,  I  wish  I  could  recall 
his  name.  •—*-*»* 

Alceste.  No  matter  for  his  name;  what  uiu 
he  tell  you?  ... 

Dubois.  Well,  he  was  one  of  your  friends, 
that  must  suffice.  He  told  me  you  were  in 
danger  of  arrest,  and  must  get  off  at  once. 

Alceste.  But  why?  Did  he  not  specify  the 
reason?  •'  , 

Dubois.    No;  he  asked  for  pen  and  ink  and 
wrote  a  line  by  which  you  can,  I  think,  get  to 
the  bottom  of  this  mystery. 
Alceste.    Give  it  me,  then. 
Celimene'  What  can  all  this  mean? 
Alceste     I  do  not  know;   but  I  will  clear  It 
up       Come,    you    impertinent    devil,    give   me 
the  note.  .  . 

Dubois  {after  searching  long  in  ^sP0™™)' 
Faith!  monsieur— I  believe— I've  left  it  on 
your  table.  _^ 

Alceste.  I  don't  know  what  prevents  me 
from — 

Celimene.  Do  not  be  angry;  but  go  at  once 
and  see  what  all  this  means. 

Alceste  It  seems  that  fate,  whatever  pains 
I  tike'  has  sworn  to  hinder  all  our  mterviews. 
But  to  defeat  it,  promise,  »y  \ove,  matomg 
that  you  will  let  me  speak  with  you  again 
this  evening. 

END  OF  ACT  FOTJB. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  51 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I. 

ALCESTE,  PHILINTE. 

Alceste.    My  resolution  is  taken,  I  tell  you. 

Philinte.  But,  however  hard  the  blow,  must 
it  compel  you — 

Alceste.  Useless  to  say  a  word,  useless  to 
reason  with  me;  nothing  that  you  can  do  will 
turn  me  from  my  purpose.  The  age  in  which 
we  live  is  too  perverted;  I  desire  to  withdraw 
-from  intercourse  with  men.  Honor,  uprightness, 
decency  and  the  laws  were  openly  arrayed 
against  my  adversary;  on  all  sides  was  the 
equity  of  my  cause  proclaimed;  and  on  the 
faith  of  my  just  rights  I  rested  tranquilly. 
And  now  hehold,  I  am  defrauded  of  success; 
justice  is  with  me,  but  I  lose  my  case!  A 
traitor,  whose  scandalous  history  is  well  known 
to  all,  comes  off  victorious  by  the  blackest 
falsehood!  Those  who  were  on  my  side  yield 
to  his  treachery!  He  cuts  my  throat  and  makes 
them  think  it  is  right.  The  weight  of  his 
canting  artifice — all  jugglery! — has  overthrown 
the  Right  and  baffled  Justice:  he  wins  a  ver- 
dict which  has  crowned  a  crime.  And  not 
content  with  the  great  wrong  he  has  already 
done  me,  he  is  spreading  everywhere  a  vil- 
lainous book,  the  very  reading  of  which  is 
most  condemnable, — a  book  that  merits  the 
rigor  of  the  law;  and  the  lying  rascal  has  the 
effrontery  to  say  I  wrote  it!  And  Oronte  mut- 
ters low  and  tries*  maliciously  to  circulate  the 
calumny, — he,  who  holds  the  rank  of  an  honest 
man  at  court;  to  whom  I  nave  been  sincere 
and  frank;  he,  who  came  to  me,  with  an  eager 
ardor  which  I  did  not  seek,  and  asked  for  my 


52  THE  MISANTHROPE 

opinion  on  his  verses.  And  because  I  treated 
him  with  honesty,  refusing  to  be  false  to  him 
or  truth,  he  helps  to  crush  me  with  an  imag- 
inary crime,  and  now  becomes  my  greatest  ene- 
my! Never  will  his  soul  forgive  me  because, 
forsooth!  I  could  not  say  his  verse  was  good. 
And  all  men,  damn  them!  have  become  like 
that.  These  are  the  actions  to  which  glory 
leads  them!  Here's  the  good  faith,  the  virtuous 
zeal,  the  justice,  and  the  honor  we  expect  of 
them!  No,  no,  it  is  too  much  to  bear  such 
suffering.  I  will  escape  this  nest  of  villains, 
and  since  with  human  beings  we  must  live  like 
wolves,  traitors!  you  shall  not  have  my  lite 
among  you.  . 

Philinic.  I  think  you  are  too  hasty  in  form- 
ing that  design;  the  harm  is  not  so  great  as 
you  would  make  it.  The  deal  this  man  has  dared 
impute  to  you  has  not  obtained  enough  belief 
to  make  the  authorities  arrest  you.  That  false 
report  is  dying  of  itself;  it  is  an  action  that 
will  injure  only  him  who  did  it. 

Alceste.  Injure  him,  indeed!  He  does  not 
fear  the  scandal  of  such  tricks.  He  has  the 
world's  permission  to  be  a  scoundrel;  and  so 
far  from  his  credit  being  injured  by  this  deed 
you'll  see  him  in  some  honored  place  tomorrow. 
Philinte.  Nevertheless  't  is  certain  no  one 
has  given  much  belief  to  the  tale  his  malice 
spreads  about  you.  On  that  score  you  have 
nothing  at  all  to  fear.  As  for  the  verdict  on 
your  lawsuit,  of  which  indeed  you  may  com- 
plain, justice  may  yet  be  won;  you  can  appeal 
against  this   judgment — 

Alceste.  No,  I  shall  hold  to  it.  However 
great  the  wrong  that  verdict  does  me,  I  will 
not  have  it  quashed;  it  shows  too  plainly  nov> 
the  Right  is  wronged.  I  wish  it  to  remair 
for  all  posterity,— a  signal  mark,  a  noted  testi- 
mony to  the  wickedness   of  this  age.      T  will 


THE  MISANTHROPE  53 

cost  me  twenty  thousand  francs,  but  with  that 
sum  I  buy  the  right  to  curse  the  iniquity  of 
human  nature  and  to  keep  alive  my  everlasting 
hatred  to  it. 

PMHnte.     In  short — 

Alceste.  In  short,  your  efforts  are  super- 
flous.  What  can  you  find  to  say  upon  this 
matter,  monsieur?  Will  you  have  the  'effront- 
ery to  bid  me  to  my  face  excuse  the  infamy 
of  what  has  happened? 

Philinte.  No,  I  am  one  with  you  in  what  you 
say.  In  these  days  all  things  go  by  base  in- 
trigue and  selfish  interests;  craft  carries  all 
before  it.  Men  ought  indeed  to  be  made  of 
other  metal;  but  is  their  lack  of  probity  a 
reason  to  withdraw  yourself  from  social  life? 
All  human  frailty  is  a  means  of  exercising  our 
philosophy.  That  is  the  finest  work  of  virtue. 
If  every  one  were  clothed  with  integrity,  if 
every  heart  were  just,  frank,  kindly,  the  other 
virtues  would  be  well-nigh  useless,  since  their 
chief  purpose  is  to  make  us  bear  with  patience 
the  injustice  of  our  fellows.  And  so,  a  heart 
of  honest  virtue — 

Alceste.  I  know  your  words  are  of  the  best, 
monsieur,  your  excellent  arguments  are  most 
abundant;  but  you  waste  your  time  in  making 
those  fine  speeches.  Reason  demands  for  my 
soul's  good  that  I  retire.  I  have  not  enough 
control  over  my  tongue;  I  cannot  answer  for 
what  I  might  be  led  to  say;  I  should  have 
twenty  duels  on  my  hands  at  once.  Leave  me, 
without  further  argument,  to  wait  for  Celimene. 
She  must  consent  to  my  design.  'T  is  that  which 
brings  me  here  to  speak  with  her.  I  am  about 
to  see  whether  her  heart  does  truly  love  me; 
this  coming  hour  will  prove  it  to  me  once 
for  all. 

Philinte.  Let  us  go  up  to  Eliante  while  await- 
ing Celimene. 


54  THE  MISANTHROPE 

Alceste.  No,  my  soul  is  full  of  care;  do  you 
go  up,  and  leave  me  in  this  gloomy  corner 
with  my  black  misery.  „.■-.- 

Philinte.  'T  is  cruel  company.  I  will  find 
Eliante  and  bring  her  down. 

SCENE  II. 
CELIMENE,    ORONTE,    ALCESTE. 

Oronte.  Yes,  it  is  for  you  to  say,  madame, 
whether  you  will  bind  me  wholly  to  you  by 
these  tender  ties.  I  must  have  full  assurance 
from  your  soul  to  mine;  a  lover  cannot  bear 
these  hesitations.  If  the  ardor  of  my  passion 
has  power  to  move  you,  you  should  not  feign  un- 
willingness to  let  me  know  it.  The  proof  I  ask 
of  you  is,  plainly,  no  longer  to  admit  Alceste 
among  your  suitors;  to  sacrifice  him,  madame, 
to  my  love;  and  banish  him  from  your  house 
this  very  day.  - 

Celimene.  But  why  are  you  so  angry  with 
him  now,  you  whom  I  have  often  known  to 
speak  of  him  with  favor? 

Oronte.  Madame,  there  is  no  need  of  expla- 
nations. The  question  is,  What  are  your  senti- 
ments? Choose,  if  you  please,  between  us;  keep 
one  or  else  the  other;  my  resolution  waits  upon 
your  will.  .  .       Tr 

Alceste  (advancing  from  his  corner).  Yes, 
monsieur  is  right.  Madame,  you  must  choose. 
In  this  his  wishes  accord  with  mine;  the  seli- 
same  passion  prompts  me,  the  same  intention 
brings  me  hither.  My  love  must  have  some  cer- 
tain proof  of  yours.  Things  cannot  thus  drag 
on  another  day;  this  is  the  moment  to  reveal 
your  heart.  mi  ,      T 

Oronte.  Monsieur,  if  your  suit  succeeds,  I 
do  not  mean   that  my   importunate  love  shall 

r°Alceste.'  Monsieur,  I  shall  not  seek,  jealous 
or  not,  to  share  her  heart  with  you. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  55 

Oronte.     If  she  prefers  your  love  to  mine — 

Alceste.  If  she  is  capable  of  any  leaning  to- 
ward you — 

Oronte.     I  swear  I  will  no  longer  court  her. 

Alceste.    I  swear  I  will  no  longer  see  her. 

Oronte.  Madame,  it  is  for  you  to  speak  with- 
out constraint. 

Alceste.  Madame,  you  can  explain  yourself 
without  anxiety. 

Oronte.  You  have  but  to  say  on  whom  your 
wishes  fall. 

Alceste.  You  have  but  to  speak  the  truth  and 
choose  between  us. 

Oronte.  What!  at  making  such  a  choice  you 
seem  to  be  distressed! 

Alceste.  What!  your  soul  hesitates  and  seems 
uncertain! 

Celimene.  Good  heavens!  this  demand  is  most 
ill-timed;  how  little  sense  or  reason  either  of 
you  show!  I  know  myself  the  preference  I 
feel;  my  heart  is  not  upon  the  scales,  suspend- 
ed doubtfully  between  you.  Nothing  could  be 
more  quickly  made  than  the  choice  you  ask  for; 
but  I  should  feel,  to  tell  the  truth,  too  much 
embarrassment  in  making  this  avowal  to  your 
face.  A  choice  like  this  must  seem  unkind  to 
one;  it  should  not,  therefore,  openly  be  made 
in  presence  of  both.  A  heart  will  always  show 
its  leanings  plainly  enough  without  compelling 
it  to  bare  itself;  some  gentler  means  can  suro 
be  found  to  show  a  lover  that  his  attentions 
are  unwelcome. 

Oronte.  No,  no,  I  do  not  fear  a  frank  avowal, 
and  I  consent  for  my  part — 

Alceste.  And  I  demand  it.  It  is  this  very 
publishing  I  dare  exact.  I  will  not  have  you 
shirk  the  truth  in  any  way.  To  keep  on  terms 
with  all  the  world  is  what  you  study.  But  no 
more  dallying,  no  more  indecision  now;  you 
must  explain  yourself  decisively;  or  else  I  take 


56  THE  MISANTHROPE 

refusal  for  decision,  and  I  shall  know,  for  my 
part,  how  to  explain  your  silence;  I  shall  con- 
sider said  the  wrong  that  I  expect  of  you. 

Oronte.  Monsieur,  I  thank  you  for  your  in- 
dignation, and  I  say  to  madame,  here,  the  same 
as  you. 

CeUmene.  How  you  annoy  me  with  your 
whims!  What  justice  is  therein  what  you  ask? 
Have  I  not  told  you  the  motive  that  restrains 
ml?  Here  is  Eliante,  she  shall  judge  this 
matter. 

SCENE  III. 

ELIANTE,  PHILINTE,   CELIMENE,  ORONTE,  ALCESTE. 

CeUmene.  Cousin,  I  am  persecuted  hy  these 
two  men,  whose  scheme  appears  to  have  been 
concerted.  They  each  demand,  with  equal  heat, 
that  I  shall  here  proclaim,  in  presence  of  both, 
the  choice  my  heart  has  made;  and ^  that,  in 
giving  this  decision  openly,  I  shall  forbid  one 
or  the  other  from  paying  me  attentions.  Tell 
me  if  things  are  ever  done  m  that  way. 

Eliante.  Do  not  consult  me;  you  may  find 
that  you  appeal  to  the  wrong  pe rson^  Fran kly , 
I  am  for  those  who  speak  their  thoughts. 

Oronte.  Madame,  it  is  in  vain  that  you  seek 
to  evade  us.  t  A  . 

Alceste.    All  your  evasions  are  ill-seconded. 

Oronte.  You  must,  you  shall  speak  out,  and 
end  this  vacillation. 

Alceste.    It  is  enough  if  you  persist  m  silence. 

Oronte.  I  ask  but  a  single  word  to  end  the 
matter.  ,       _  .«  -  „ 

Alceste.  And  I  shall  comprehend  you  if  you 
say  no  word. 


THE  MISANTHROPE  57 


SCENE   IV. 

ARSINOE,    ACASTE,    CLITANDRE,    CELIMENE,    ORONTE, 
ALCESTE,    ELIANTE,    PHILINTE. 

Acaste  (to  Celimene).  Madame,  we  have 
come,  Clitandre  and  I,  to  clear  up,  if  you  please 
without  offence,  a  trifling  matter. 

Clitandre  (to  Oronte  and  Alceste).  Your 
presence,  gentlemen,  is  very  timely,  for  you  are 
both  concerned  in  this  affair. 

Arsinoe  (to  Celimene).  It  may  surprise  you, 
madame,  to  see  me  here,  and  I  must  tell  you 
that  these  gentlemen  have  caused  my  coming. 
They  came  to  see  me  to  complain  of  something 
my  heart  cannot  believe.  I  have  too  high  an 
esteem  for  your  real  depth  of  soul  to  think  you 
capable  of  so  great  a  wrong.  My  eyes  refused 
their  strongest  testimony;  and  my  friendship, 
overlooking  our  small  jars,  has  brought  me  to 
you  in  their  company  that  I  may  see  you  clear 
yourself  at  once  of  this  foul  calumny. 

Acaste.  Madame,  we  wish  to  see,  in  a  kindly 
spirit,  how  you  will  take  these  facts.  Here  is 
a  letter  written. by  you  to  Clitandre. 

Clitandre.  And  here  is  a  tender  billet  writ- 
ten by  you  to  Alcaste. 

Acaste  (to  Oronte  and  Alceste).  Gentlemen, 
this  writing  is  well-known  to  you,  of  course.  I 
do  not  doubt  that  her  civilities  have  frequently 
enabled  you  to  see  it.  But  the  letter  itself  is 
worthy  of  being  read. 

(Reads.)  "What  a  strange  man  you  are  to 
blame  me  for  my  gayety,  and  to  declare  that 
I  am  never  so  pleased  as  when  you  are  not 
with  me.  Nothing  was  ever  more  unjust;   and 


58  THE  MISANTHROPE 

if  you  do  not  come  at  once  and  beg  my  pardon 
for  this  offence,  I  will  never  in  my  life  forgive 
you  for  it.    Our  tall,  ungainly  viscount — " 

He  ought  to  be  present,  and  hear  this. 

"Our  tall,  ungainly  viscount,  the  first  whom 
you  complain  of,  is  a  man  who  never  pleased 
me;  and  since  I  saw  him,  for  an  hour  together, 
spit  in  a  pond  in  order  to  make  bubbles,  I  have 
'had  a  poor  opinion  of  him.  As  for  the  little 
marquis-*—" 

That  is  myself,  gentlemen;  I  say  it  without 
vanity. 

"As  for  the  little  marquis,  who  held  my  hand 
today  for  a  long  time,  I  think  him  the  most 
finical  of  little  beings;  there's  nothing  of  him 
but  his  nobility.  And  as  for  the  man  of  the 
green  ribbons — " 

(To  Alceste.)  Your  turn  now,  monsieur. 

"As  for  the  man  of  the  green  ribbons,  he 
amuses  me  at  times  with  his  bluntness  and  his 
surly  grumbling;  but  there  are  moments  when 
I  think  him  the  most  irritating  mortal  upon 
earth.    As  for  the  man  of  sonnets — " 

(To  Oronte.)  This  is  to  your  address,  mon- 
sieur. 

"As  for  the  man  of  sonnets,  who  has  flung 
himself  into  poesy  and  wishes  to  be  an  author 
in  defiance  of  everybody,  I  do  not  give  myself 
the  trouble  to  listen  to  him.  His  prose  fatigues 
me  even  more  than  his  verses.  Therefore,  do 
pray  believe  that  I  am  not  so  gay  and  amused 
in  your  absence  as  you  fancy,  and  that  I  think 
of  you — more  than  I  could  wish — at  the  parties 
of  pleasure  to  which  I  am  dragged;  it  is  a  won- 
derful seasoning  of  all  enjoyments  to  think  of 
those  we  love." 

Clitandre.  And  here  am  I,  in  this  billet  to 
Acaste.  Your  Clitandre,  of  whom  you  speak, 
and  who  says  sweet  things  to  me,  is  the  very 


THE  MISANTHROPE  59 

last  man  for  whom  I  could  feel  regard.  He  is 
absurd  to  imagine  he  is  loved;  and  you  are  still 
more  absurd  to  fancy  you  are  not  loved.  Ex- 
change opinions;  and  then  you  will,  both  of 
you,  be  more  nearly  right.  Come  and  see  me 
as  often  as  you  can,  and  help  me  to  bear  the 
annoyance  of  being  beset  by  him.  There, 
madame,  is  the  model  of  a  noble  character;  you 
know  what  it  is  called.  Enough!  We  shall  each 
exhibit,  wherever  we  go,  this  glorious  picture 
of  your  heart. 

Alcaste.  I  might  say  much  to  you,  for  the 
subject  is  a  fine  one;  but  I  do  not  count  you 
worthy  of  my  anger.  I  will  let  you  see  that 
little  marquises  can  win,  for  consolation, 
hearts  that  are  worth  far  more  than  yours. 

[Exeunt  marquises.] 


SCENE  V. 

CELIMENE,  ELIANTE,    ARSINOE,   ALCESTE,  ORONTE, 
PHILINTE. 

Oronte.  Can  it  be  that  you  tear  me  thus  to 
pieces  after  all  that  you  have  written  and  said 
to  me?  Does  your  heart,  adorned  with  such 
fine  semblances  of  love,  give  itself,  in  turn,  to 
all  the  human  race?  Go! — I  have  been  a  dupe, 
but  I  am  one  no  longer.  You  have  done  me, 
madame,  a  service  in  letting  me  unmask  you. 
I  shall  profit  in  the  heart  I  thus  regain,  and 
find  my  vengeance  in  your  loss.  (To  Alceste.) 
Monsieur,  I  offer  no  further  hindrance  to  your 
love;  you  can  conclude  your  treaty  win  ma- 
dame.    [Exit.] 


60  THE  MISANTHROPE 


SCENE   VI. 


CELIMENE,    ELIANTE,    ARSINOE,    ALCESTE,    PHILINTE. 

Arsinoe.  Truly  this  is  the  basest  act  I  hare 
ever  known.  I  cannot  keep  silence,  for  I  feel  so 
shocked.  Was  ever  any  conduct  seen  like 
yours?  I  take  no  interest  in  those  other  men, 
but  as  for  monsieur  (motioning  to  Alceste) 
who  rested  all  his  happiness  on  you,  a  man  like 
him,  of  honor  and  great  merit,  who  cherished 
you  with  absolute  idolatry,  ought  he — 

Alceste.  Allow  me,  madame,  if  you  please,  to 
manage  my  affairs  myself.  Pray  do  not  take 
upon  yourself  superflous  cares.  In  vain  my 
heart  hears  you  take  up  its  quarrel;  it  is  not 
in  a  state  to  pay  for  great  zeal.  If  by  another 
choice  I  wished  to  avenge  myself  it  would  not 
be  on  you  that  choice  would  fall. 

Arsinoe.  Eh!  do  you  imagine,  monsieur,  that 
such  a  thought  exists,  or  any  eagerness  is  felt 
to  win  you?  I  think  your  mind  is  far  too  full 
of  vanity  if  it  can  flatter  itself  with  that  belief. 
Madame's  rejected  leavings  are  a  merchandise 
one  would  be  foolish  indeed  to  take  a  fancy  to. 
Pray  undeceive  yourself;  carry  your  thoughts 
less  high;  I'm  not  the  sort  of  woman  you  should 
aspire  to.  You  would  do  well  to  keep  your  sighs 
for  her;  I  long  to  see  so  suitable  a  match.  [Exit.] 

SCENE  VII. 
CELIMENE,    ELIANTE,    ALCESTE,    PHILINTE. 

Alceste  (to  Celimene.)  Madame,  I  have  kept 
silence,  in  spite  of  all  that  I  have  seen  and 
heard.  I  have  allowed  all  others  to  speak  be- 
fore me.  Have  I  controlled  myself  enough,  and 
may  I  now — 


THE  MISANTHROPE  61 

Celimene.  Yes,  say  all;  you  have  a  right  to 
complain,  and  to  reproach  me  as  you  will.  I 
have  done  wrong, — I  here  confess  it;  and  my 
discomfited  soul  will  seek  no  vain  excuse  to  an- 
swer you.  I  have  despised  the  anger  of  the 
others,  but  I  admit  my  crime  to  yen.  Your 
indignation,  without  a  doubt,  is  reasonable.  I 
know  how  guilty  I  must  seem  to  you, — how  all 
things  go  to  prove  I  have  betrayed  you.  In 
short,  you  have  every  right  to  hate  me.  D« 
so;  I  consent. 

Alceste.  Ah!  can  I,  traitress?  Can  I  thus 
conquer  love?  However  I  may  long  to  hate  you, 
have  I  a  heart  within  me  to  obey  my  will?  (Td 
Eliante  and  Philinte).  See  what  this  abject 
tenderness  can  do!  I  call  you  both  to  witness 
my  great  weakness.  And  yet,  this  is  not  all; 
you  are  about  to  see  me  carry  that  weakness 
farther,  show  what  a  folly  't  is  to  call  us  wise, 
and  prove  that  in  all  hearts  there's  still  the 
man.  (To  Celimene).  Yes,  I  am  willing  to 
forget  your  guilt;  my  heart  is  ready  to  excuse  it 
and  call  this  wrong  a  foible  to  which  the  vices 
of  the  times  misled  your  youth, — provided  you 
here  consent  to  clasp  hands  with  the  purpose 
I  have  formed  to  separate  from  men  and  live 
apart  in  country  solitudes;  to  which,  without 
delay  you  now  must  follow  me.  In  that  way 
only  can  you  still  repair,  before  the  eyes  of 
all  men,  the  wrong  that  you  have  done  me.  Do 
this,  and  notwithstanding  the  notoriety  which 
noble  hearts  abhor,  I  still  shall  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  love  you. 

Celimene.  I!  renounce  the  world  before  I  am 
old,  and  bury  myself  with  you  in  country  soli- 
tudes? 

Alceste.  But  if  your  love  responds  to  mine 
what  matters  all  the  world  to  you?  Will  you 
not  be  content  with  me  alone? 

Celimene.     Solitude  has  terrors  for  a  heart 


62  THE  MISANTHROPE 

so  young.  I  feel  that  mine  has  not  the  gran- 
deur, nor  the  strength,  to  resolve  upon  a 
scheme  of  this  kind.  If  the  bestowal  of  my 
hand  can  satisfy  your  wishes  I  will  consent 
to  tie  the  knot  of  marriage — 

Alceste?  No;  my  soul  revolts  against  you 
now;  this  hard  refusal  moves  me  more  than  all 
the  rest.  And  since  you  cannot  in  so  sweet  a 
tie  find  all  in  me  as  I  found  all  in  you,  go!  — 
I  reject  you.  This  sore  outrage  frees  me  for- 
ever from  your  unworthy  bonds.  [Exit  Cell- 
mene.] 


SCENE  VIII. 

ELIANTE,    ALCESTE,    PHILINTE. 

Alceste  (to  Eliante).  Madame,  your  beauty 
is  adorned  with  every  virtue;  never  have  I  seen 
aught  in  you  but  strict  sincerity.  I  have  long 
valued  you  most  highly.  Let  me  continue  to 
esteem  you  thus;  and  suffer  that  my  heart,  in 
all  its  divers  troubles,  should  not  demand  the 
honor  of  your  bonds.  I  feel  myself  unworthy; 
I  begin  to  know  that  heaven  did  not  give  me 
life  for  the  ties  of  marriage.  'T  would  be  too 
base  a  homage  to  offer  you  the  leavings  of  a 
heart  not  worth  your  own;   therefore — 

Elicmte.  You  can  fulfil  that  thought,  Alceste. 
My  hand  is  not  so  difficult  to  bestow,  for  here's 
your  friend,  who,  if  I  asked  him,  would  wil- 
lingly accept  it. 

Philinte.  Ah!  that  honor,  madame,  is  my  sole 
desire.  To  gain  it,  I  would  sacrifice  both  blood 
rind  life. 


-.xiE  MI&aMTHROPE  63 

Alceste.  And  may  you  ever  taste  of  true  con- 
tentment, by  keeping,  each  for  each,  such  senti- 
mentJS  xAs  •  f.or  me'  Grayed  on  all  sides, 
crushed  by  injustice,  I  leave  a  pit  where  vices 
triumph,  to  seek  somewhere  on  earth  a  lonelv 
spot  where  I  am  free  to  be  a  man  of  honor. 

Phiiinte.  Come,  madame,  come,  let  us  em- 
ploy all  ways  to  thwart  this  scheme  his  heart 
proposes. 

END  OF  THE  MISANTHROPE. 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

LIFE  AND  LETTERS  is  a  monthly  inagMtae, 
edited  by  E-Haldeman-Jul  us    1.1FE  AND  LET- 
TERS presents,  *W£  >™£* 
simple,  compact,                 -      month— suih    as 
one    great   personality    eacn   moaux    *     ■ 

Plato,  Goethe,  Sh.  VrePoK 

Darwin-and  gives  a  ewapiehen siye  ™*°" 
the  man's  life  ^d  achievements  The  donanat 
ing  essay  is  usually  about  la.OOO  wo  ds  long. 
One  year-twelve  issues-only  *W0™%^' 
$1  50  in  Canada  and  Foreign.  LIFE  AND  LET- 
TERS,  GIRARD,  KANSAS.  ..._____ 

HiULDEMANJULIUS'f/EEKLY 

HALDEkAN- JULIUS  WEEKLY,  edited  by  J. 
Haldeman- Julius,  aims  to  bring  before  its  read- 
ers concSe  reports  of  the  world's  achievements 
to  See,  literature,  art,  drama  politics  and 
everv  other  field  of  human  endeavor.  The 
SIlDEmIn-JULIUS  WEEKLY  brings ,,  t< ,  its 
readers  the  best  works  of  the  worlds  B*»te8t 
minds.  Fifty-two  issues-one  year-only  II  m 
U  S.;  $1.50  in  Canada  and  Foreign HALDE- 
MAN-JULIUS  WEEKLY,  GIRARD,  KANSAS. 

■  KNOW  THYSELF 

KNOW  THYSELF  is  a  monthly  magazine 
edited I  by  William  J.  Fielding  and  E.  Haldeman- 
Julius  KNOW  THYSfiLF'S  policy  is  to  sup- 
Jl?  "information  along  the  lines  of  psycho- 
analysis, sex,  science,  etc.  It  is  a  valuable 
source  of  information.  One  year-twelve  is- 
™pl!!si  50  in  U  S.;  $2  in  Canada  and  For- 
e?gn KNOW  THYSELF,  GIRARD,  KANSAS. 
MADE  IN  U.  a  A. 


